


Donatra and T'Shara

by MysticaSmith



Category: Star Trek
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 04:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticaSmith/pseuds/MysticaSmith
Summary: Counselor Deanna Troi's crazy half-Romulan cousin returns to Romulus and decides to have an affair with Commander Donatra. This story is unfinished and takes place shortly after Nemesis. Feel free to comment about what you think should occur and please forgive any holes. It is a work in progress, and I need something to read and review on an airplane ride from London to Seattle!





	Donatra and T'Shara

DONATRA AND T’SHARA  
By Mystica Smith

YEAR 2380

The Ferengi pilot noticed a distress call, and said, “Captain, there is powerless vessel hailing us.”  
“Patch it through,” the captain said.  
On their forward viewscreen they saw a primitive, boxy ship, and then the interior of a bland, brownish bridge. Several heavy, jowled male humanoids stared back at them. The Ferengi captain waited a minute, and since time is money, then jumped up and said, “Well, what is it?”  
The creatures stared, and then one said, “We need help.”  
“Assistance comes at a price,” the Ferengi captain said, rubbing his fingers together.  
“We need help.”  
“What kind of help?”  
“Our ship is the Mondor. It is broken. We need help to make it go.”  
“Do you even know what’s wrong with it?” the Ferengi captain asked.  
“It is broken.”  
“Who are you people?”  
“We are Pakleds. We look for things.”  
One of the Ferengi rubbed his hands together and approached the captain, “I have an idea,” he grinned. “We could sell them something, lots of somethings, to make their ship go,” he announced in glee.  
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” the captain smiled.  
“Yes,” the other Ferengi agreed, rubbing his hands together and almost prancing with the thought of his own brilliance. “We could sell them our cargo of spent Cardassian reactors. Those fools won’t know the difference! They’ll think its valuable, and we could save ourselves a trip to the recycle depot on Qualus Two and keep what the Cardassians paid us to dispose of them!”  
All the other Ferengi on the bridge cackled and agreed this was a fine idea. The captain grinned widely. “You have pleased me very much,” he told his officer. Then he turned to the aliens, “We will sell you our extra warp cores for only 20,000 bars of gold pressed latinum.”  
“We don’t have that.”  
“What do you have?”  
“We look for things.”  
“Did you find anything valuable?”  
“We look for things to make our ship go.”  
“Then you are in luck,” the Ferengi captain said. “Warp cores will make your ship go fast! But we require payment first.” The Pakleds stared at him in confusion until the Ferengi captain told his pilot, “Scan their ship for anything of value.”  
A few minutes later, the pilot answered. “They have absolutely nothing of value, sir. Even their ship is worthless. Everything on it is broken, it’s not worth fixing, no one would buy it and we would have to pay to junk it.”  
“Then we will take what profit we can,” the captain decided. He addressed the Pakleds, “You are lucky that we are so generous that we will give them to you free of charge. But you will owe us a favor.”  
“Things that will make our ship go fast.”  
“Yes! Very fast! Cardassian warp engines are very powerful!”  
“We will be strong!”  
“Invincible!” the Ferengi captain emphasized, while the Pakleds smiled in delightful anticipation. Then he turned to his pilot. “Beam those radioactive deadweights onto the other ship and then set an immediate course for the Ferenginar at warp 9!”  
“Aye sir,” the pilot smiled, and proceeded to transport their entire cargo of spent warp cores and radioactive fuel onto the Pakled vessel. Within seconds the Pakled cargo holds were full of elderly, worn Cardassian warp cores in pieces, and the hallways were nearly impassible with loads of spent radioactive fuel. Then the Ferengi ship turned and flew swiftly away, vanishing.  
“We are strong!” the Pakleds rejoiced, and did their happy dance. 

Far away on Romulus, off duty soldiers mixed freely with the locals in a crowded, noisy pub. Music with a heavy beat played in the background. Games were being played along the solid gray back wall, far from the decorative glass dishware kept safely behind the bar. Men challenged each other to tests of strength while others placed bets. Others played a dart game, and in a quieter corner, small groups entertained themselves with puzzles and games of intrigue with dice and miniatures. Seated with her friend Subcommander Derik and two other officers, Commander Donatra spotted the half-Romulan, half-Betazoid woman easily, sitting alone smoking something. The long haired, green-eyed lady could be no one else on Romulus. Her long hair was unusual for a military group, and she was out of uniform. Instead, she was wearing a long black dress coat with fur lined edges and a high collar, which looked incredibly soft and Donatra felt an almost overwhelming urge to go over and touch. Donatra wondered why she wore that. If she made more of an effort to look like a Romulan and less like a Betazoid, she could use her telepathic powers surreptitiously, thus making it easier to gain an advantage. Unless of course, the telepathy was already such an advantage that she wanted to warn people of it. Donatra noticed that everyone else was avoiding her, hoping to stay out of her sight.  
T’Shara turned around and smiled at her, catching her eye and holding it. Caught staring by a Betazoid! Donatra felt an immediate blush and heard words in her head as clearly as if they had been spoken. Come to me. Then T’Shara turned back towards the bar, and resumed smoking, letting Donatra off the hook of her direct gaze. Should I, Donatra wondered. Does she want what I think she wants or is something else going on?  
I want exactly what you think I want, Donatra heard clearly in her mind. She watched T’Shara and knew the choice was hers- to approach or to quit staring. Donatra hesitated, T’Shara was notorious for a number of reasons, but a telepath would be an asset to whichever commander had her on their bridge. Even cloaked ships were empathically detectable, and it would be very valuable to always know when she was being lied to. Provided she was trustworthy. Her brother had been a vice-proconsul, and she was royalty on Betazed, one of three heirs to Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx and the Holy Rings of Betazed. But she was also a noble from an ancient house here on Romulus. She felt a wave of shyness and apprehension, was approaching her even appropriate? Perhaps running away was the wisest thing to do. Then again, she had been invited, and she did have business to discuss. Besides, she told herself, why should the Federation have all the beautiful telepaths, and there was no way she was going to risk having a disloyal Reman on her ship. The door of opportunity was open now, and might never come again, so she soothed her nerves with another sip of ale and decided to be brave.  
“Excuse me,” Donatra said to the three men at the table. Subcommander Derik gave her a worried look and shook his head- no.  
“Don’t worry,” Donatra said, “I’ll be fine.”  
“By all the Elements, no!” Derik said.  
“I’ll be back,” she assured him, and then stood up and walked over to the bar and sat down next to T’Shara, who appeared to be alone. The Betazoid smelled like roses and cake amidst the coppery, sweaty smells of the usual bar patrons. “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked.  
“Yes, I was hoping you would join me,” T’Shara smiled kindly. She reached out and touched Donatra’s hand in friendship and understanding. Most Betazoids were warm and caring, and T’Shara had that gentle, nonthreatening manner of her race.  
Donatra felt a surge of relief. T’Shara wasn’t intimidating at all, more the accepting demeanor of an old friend, and she was even more beautiful close up. Despite the rumors, she didn’t feel at all manipulated or like her mind was being picked over for information. Instead was the certainty that if she chose, it would be fun. But there was something she still wondered. Vulcanoids showed interest in one another when their eyes took on a violet color. Emerald told her nothing. “Do you find me attractive?” she asked.  
“Very. I think you’re beautiful. And so does everyone else,” T’Shara smiled and confided, “If you want to know.”  
Donatra almost laughed. So that rumor was true. The Betazoid preferred women.  
The bartender approached and asked, “What are you drinking?”  
“Romulan ale,” Donatra answered.  
“And you?” he asked T’Shara.  
“I’ll have another,” she smiled.  
He had been trying to think of something witty or insightful to say, but he couldn’t. What came out of the poor fellow’s mouth was, “Shall I water it down for you?”  
“That’s fine,” T’Shara said, and blew glittering blue smoke over the bar as he left. She felt bad that he felt bad and so she quickly averted her gaze, disentangling herself from someone else’s unwanted emotion.  
“What is that?” Donatra asked, looking away from the bartender’s embarrassment and at the mysterious sparkling blue smoke. She had never seen anything like it, and wondered what it was.  
“A very bad habit,” T’Shara said. She blew the smoke away from Donatra, but the strange, sweet scent drifted back in her direction. The bartender set the two ales down on the table and quickly moved on.  
Donatra sipped her drink and asked, “Can you read my thoughts?”  
“It’s considered rude on Betazed to invade the thoughts of another. Like touching, one waits to be invited.”  
“And my feelings?”  
“Are more like perfume.”  
“I see,” Donatra took another drink of ale and wondered which of her emotions was more dominant, attraction or nervousness. She drank the rest of her ale, and felt the anxiety quickly lessen. She’d never been self-conscious about her attractiveness before being harshly rebuffed by Shinzon, in fact she’d come to rely on charm. Now she knew that rejection could happen, and that particular feeling was like a wad of shame stuck to her foot.  
“I wouldn’t do that,” T’Shara said softly. “No one kind would, and certainly not to you.”  
Not to you, Donatra heard again in her mind. Someone else might get a mind flaying, but it wouldn’t be her, it would be someone T’Shara felt richly deserved it. She watched T’Shara drink her ale, and wondered if it was wise to leave a public place with this woman. Donatra had heard stories of Betazoid interrogators, and a mind-rape would be unpleasant indeed. There were no confirmed accounts of T’Shara ever harming a Romulan, or Starfleet personnel, only whispered rumors, but a number of girls and women were known to have gone missing in the company of her brother, the former vice-proconsul. They were never seen or heard from again. The official version of their disappearances was that they had been arrested by the Tal Shiar, and their families were intimidated into silence. Once I’m alone with her…  
T’Shara sensed her doubt and said softly, “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Then she changed the subject. “I believe you had business you wished to discuss.”  
Donatra felt a sense of relief. She also realized that while T’Shara could communicate telepathically, the conversation was somewhat one-sided. “Is there a place we can speak privately?” Donatra asked.  
“There is,” T’Shara answered, taking another sip of her drink.  
Let’s leave as quietly as possible, Donatra heard in her mind. We can talk outside. Then she thought, if I leave with her, I’m not sure what I’ll find, only that I’m curious and I want to know more. She is beautiful, and I want her on the bridge of my ship as an assistant. Captain Picard had her cousin, the half Betazoid, half human Deanna Troi, on his bridge, and she was a very valuable asset, with a long and distinguished career. This is it, Donatra thought, and followed T’Shara out into the night. People saw them leave together, which was good and bad, Donatra thought. Gossip would fly, but at least Derik would know who she left with, and T’Shara was known for disappearing. Someone would come looking, and she was the commander of a warbird. Then again, even if a commander disappeared, the noble houses were seldom if ever held accountable for their actions.  
Once outside, T’Shara breathed an audible sigh of relief. “It’s like a dirty fishbowl in there,” she said.  
“Can you hear all their thoughts?” Donatra asked as they walked down the street.  
“Unfortunately, unless I make an effort to block it out. But why would I want to listen to the thoughts of a hundred Romulan soldiers and tavern girls? Sex, money, sex, drinking, sex, food, sex, skiing, sex, money, sex, pine cones… Above and beyond the general background noise they’re making.”  
Donatra laughed, “That sounds unpleasantly loud and strange.”  
“It is. Like a tremendous din that drowns out my own thoughts. I prefer solitude most of the time, or at least outdoors where it is quiet, where the silence is soothing and I can be alone.”  
“And on a ship?”  
“Cloaked vessels tend to be quiet, and I can take refuge in my quarters, or on my own little ship. That’s not usually a problem.” She smiled, “Why? Are you here for personal reasons or ship’s business?”  
“Both. I would like very much for you to be on my ship. Your cousin was a valuable aid to Captain Picard. Would you consider transferring to the Valdore?”  
“I would be delighted to be out from under the scrutiny and supervision of Commander Toreth.”  
“I’ve heard she runs a tight ship.”  
“Very much so,” T’Shara agreed. “But you must agree to let me bring along my old Betazoid C-Class cruiser. I usually park it in a cargo bay with the shuttles, and I’m very fond of it.”  
“That’s not a problem. I’ve heard of it. I’m curious about it.”  
“Good,” T’Shara smiled, “Because that’s where we’re going tonight. If you still want my company after securing my service.”  
“Oh, yes,” Donatra agreed, finally giving in to the temptation to touch T’Shara. The black coatdress was made of soft angora wool that was a delight to run her hands over. “Ooohh,” Donatra admired, “It’s so fluffy and soft, like a tribble or touching a cloud.”  
“I’m glad you approve of Betazoid cashmere,” T’Shara laughed. “Although further admiration of my coatdress should probably wait until we’re aboard my ship. There are people watching us.”  
Donatra looked around, and noticed several other couples walking together, as well as a few solitary men transiting the area. One man had stopped to observe her caressing T’Shara in the darkness. “Of course.” Her hands fell to her sides, and she looked up into the night sky, at the stars and the moons of Romulus. It wasn’t unusual for two women to be together, it was only the woman she was with who was odd and attracted too much attention. She watched as a small, antiquated craft approached and hovered overhead.  
“Ready?” T’Shara asked.  
“Yes.”  
Beaming up into the cruiser, Donatra was surprised by the interior. None of the usual consoles or controls were visible, only soft chairs and storage areas, along with piles of books, tablets, and devices, like someone’s private study. The lighting was low, casting a soft rosy glow, and there was soothing music playing. It was a pleasure craft, designed for traveling in comfort. “How is this ship controlled?” she asked.  
“Telepathically,” T’Shara said. “And I apologize for the mess. I live here.”  
“You don’t travel light, do you?” Donatra said, looking at some of the items tossed casually aside. Candles, engraved twigs, silver bowls, and various stones, including the crystal prism of a high priest. They were the implements of elemental sorcery, and they were well worn from years of use. Whatever T’Shara was doing, she’d been doing it for a long time, and Donatra was fascinated. There was much to learn here.  
“No,” T’Shara admitted, “You should see my aunt’s house on Betazed, and all the stuff she hauls around when she travels.”  
Donatra had heard stories about Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, and could imagine it.  
“No,” T’Shara laughed, “More, much more clothes and jewelry. Everywhere she goes. She needs a manservant to haul it all around.”  
“Let’s talk about her some other time,” Donatra said. “Right now I’d rather forget about diplomatic missions and enjoy being here alone with you. I’ve wanted to do this all evening.” She put her arms around T’Shara and enjoyed the softness of her coatdress and the curves beneath. She couldn’t find the buttons or a zipper, but somehow the pretty garment had to come off.  
“There is no rush,” T’Shara said gently, pulling Donatra in for a kiss. “You are beautiful, and a gift from the gods. One I want to savor and unwrap slowly.”

Donatra awoke in T’Shara’s bed, the telepath asleep beside her. The ale from the night before left her thirsty, but the blankets were so soft and warm she almost didn’t want to sit up and reach for the replicator and a glass of water. So she lay still, alone with her thoughts. What have I gotten myself into? T’Shara was beautiful, as much in the light of sober reflection as in the drunken seduction of the night before. But she was twice Donatra’s age and a telepath. She had a bad reputation on Romulus and purportedly throughout Starfleet as well. How much of what she had heard was a result of vicious gossip versus what might be true she didn’t know. Donatra had been warned about her, and people in the bar last night must have seen them leave together. Had Derik already told anyone, everyone? Were her abilities worth the risk of being associated with her? The accusations of her being a Federation spy were probably true, even if it were no longer considered treason, which was fortunate. Had the assassination of the Senate failed, or the battle with Shinzon gone the other way, Donatra herself would have been executed for treason. As it stood now, her own career was a rising star, one that her association with Commander Suran, and now Praetor Tal’aura, accelerated and assured. Her friendship with Captain Picard was also an asset, and Picard’s ship’s counselor was Deanna Troi, T’Shara’s cousin. He had spoken very highly of Troi, but considered T’Shara a drunk and a pirate. He had warned Donatra that she was unethical and misused her abilities. Is she using me? Would I even know if she was? What does she really want? Disquieted, she wasn’t sure what to think. Sex had been fantastic. A lover who could feel her emotions and anticipate her responses had been a magical experience. Maybe I should just leave it at that, Donatra thought. A one-time, wonderful experience, and break it off now, before becoming any more emotionally involved. It would be easy, far too easy, to fall in love with T’Shara and possibly be dragged down with her. The Tal Shiar might be after her, as might any number of alien assassins. Militarily, T’Shara had narrowly escaped a formal reprimand several times, and was known for disappearing. Was she worth it? Were the benefits worth the potential risks? Then again, royalty could open doors for her that nothing else ever could, and imagining herself with a Betazoid princess was a thrill. It was also a chance that would never come again.  
Thirst compelled her to move. She sat up and reached for the replicator, conveniently placed just beside the bed. Comfort, she smiled, this little cruiser was a marvel of pleasure and comfort. “Water, cold,” she said softly, hoping not to wake T’Shara. Oh please, she thought, let the replicator be voice activated and not telepathically controlled like the rest of the ship! She was delighted to discover that it was, and a cool glass of water appeared. Of course, she thought, for the comfort and pleasure of non-telepathic guests. She drank it and felt much better. Then she lay back down and covered herself with the soft blankets. The bed was warm, but the air was cool and smelled floral. She heard T’Shara moan beside her. “Are you awake?”  
“My head hurts,” T’Shara moaned. “Why did I drink all that Romulan ale? Why oh why?”  
Donatra stifled a laugh. Humans didn’t handle Romulan ale very well, and apparently Betazoids didn’t either. The fastest way to incapacitate Starfleet personnel was to gift them several cases of it. They didn’t realize how drunk they were until they stood up and fell on the floor- always a hilarious sight. But T’Shara was half Romulan. “I only saw you drink one glass. How many did you have before I sat down with you?”  
“Five.”  
“Is there anything I can do?”  
“Water,” was the whispered reply.  
Replicating another glass of water, she picked it up and sat beside T’Shara, who was still moaning with her elbow over her eyes. “You’ll have to sit up to drink it.”  
“Oh, necessity,” T’Shara said, her voice as dry and desiccated as a desert. She pulled herself up, slowly and painfully, into a sitting position and accepted the glass. She sipped the water. “Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome.” Donatra watched her take small sips of water, and then said, “I was glad to see the replicator was voice activated. Is everything else on this ship telepathically controlled?”  
T’Shara sighed. “My head feels like a block of wood, and my tongue feels like sand. Give me a moment,” she said, taking another sip of water, “And I’ll put the ship on voice control. Then you can direct it to take you home.” She finished the water and handed Donatra the empty glass. “I’m sorry.”  
“For what?”  
“Being such a bad hostess the morning after and leaving you stuck here with a hung over drunk on an inoperable old Betazoid cruiser.” She slid back down and closed her eyes. Then she groaned and put her arm over her eyes as if to block out the pain. Her elbow stuck up at an odd angle.  
Donatra laughed, “It’s not that bad. Besides, I thought of a pleasant way to wake you up.”  
“Oh, what’s that?”  
“Don’t you already know?”  
“My head is full of sharp pieces of dust.”  
“Well, I feel fine,” Donatra said, cupping her hand on T’Shara’s exposed breast. Then she leaned in for a kiss. T’Shara’s lips tasted like Romulan ale and the strange, sweet blue substance she’d been smoking. On a whim she licked T’Shara’s ear and saw her smile. Then she kissed and licked her way down to T’Shara’s breasts. She flicked her tongue over a nipple and asked, “Have you guessed yet what my sober-up technique might be?”  
“I hope so.”

Donatra found her clothes right where she had left them. But first she tried on T’Shara’s angora coatdress. It was even softer and more delightful to wear. Then she took it off and put her uniform back on.  
T’Shara emerged from the back bedroom. “You’re right,” she smiled, “That was a great way to sober up.”  
“I had a feeling it would be.”  
“Now I really should take you back to your ship. They’ll be missing you.”  
“I think you should get dressed first. I’ve heard nakedness is traditional on Betazed, but it is definitely not on Romulus.”  
“That is certainly true,” T’Shara agreed, and put on her coatdress back on. She struggled with the hidden buttons so Donatra fastened them for her. She looked like the elegant, beautiful woman Donatra had met in the bar the night before. Then she slumped down into one of the padded chairs. “Bessie, go to voice control.”  
“Bessie?”  
“That’s my ship’s name. And I think you should drive.”  
Donatra looked at the absence of any consoles or controls. “How?”  
The forward viewscreen showed the Romulan landscape beneath them, vanishing off into the horizon. “Just tell her where you want to go, and visualize it. Relax, it’s easy.”  
For a telepath, Donatra thought, wondering if this was a test. If so, the price of failure was high. Settling into the cushioned seat beside T’Shara, Donatra said, “Rendezvous with the Valdore.” The ship started to move, slowly at first then gaining speed. As they approached the Valdore, still up in orbit around Romulus, Donatra stiffened in her seat and said, “Slow down!” The cruiser slowed and started to park itself alongside the warbird.  
A hail came through, “Identify yourself.”  
“This is Commander Donatra. Prepare to beam me aboard.”  
“Aye, sir.”  
T’Shara reached out and took Donatra’s hand. “See? That was easy and you did fine.”  
“I’m not used to piloting Betazoid craft, and I’ll admit it made me nervous.”  
“My father would sit there in stark terror looking like he was ready to scream.”  
“I can see why.” Then she squeezed T’Shara’s hand. “Are you coming with me?”  
“In my present condition, it might be best if I remain behind for the time being. Put in the transfer request with Star Command, and I’ll be here waiting for you.”  
“All right,” Donatra agreed, and gave her a goodbye kiss. “One to beam over.” She left T’Shara falling back asleep in her chair.

Back on the Valdore, she suddenly felt alone, despite the familiar surroundings and personnel. She noticed the curious looks and fielded questions about the odd, antique cruiser sitting off their port bow. Routine ship’s business took most of her day, but she made the time to contact the personnel department of the Imperial Star Command.  
A sour-faced older man answered her call. Admiral D’bron. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he asked.  
“Taking advantage of the opportunity to have a telepath on board,” Donatra said.  
“There are disadvantages and risks as well,” he said. “Substantial ones, and Counselor Br’nith’s service record is not good. Erratic behavior and unexplained absences are only the beginning. Starfleet finally agreed to drop the charges of drug trafficking and piracy. She’s also still trying to start a war with the Ferengi.”  
“I’m familiar with her record.”  
“My advice is to avoid her. You’re putting your own career on the line. You are doing excellent work. Don’t throw that away on a foolish, risky love affair.” He paused, noticing her shocked look. “It’s obvious,” he said, “And it’s how she operates. This has happened before. She wouldn’t be there for any other reason.”  
“I see good news travels fast,” Donatra answered, keeping her emotions hidden, “I’m still putting in the transfer request.”  
“That’s still your option,” he said, “Transmission out.”  
How she operates? This has happened before? Donatra stared at the empty screen. Doubt and disquiet crept through her. Was there any truth to that, or was he just as sour and disgruntled as he looked? There were some questions she had to ask T’Shara.  
She went about the rest of her day performing routine tasks, wondering what would happen. If Star Command denied her request, it would end her affair with T’Shara, unless she could somehow arrange to for her to come along as a passenger. If both plans failed, then they would be forced apart. Love had come infrequently to her, there had only been one other that she had ever felt so close to. She had hoped to keep their affair a secret, but the Betazoid’s reputation precluded that. Even being her friend cast a shadow of suspicion. She was deep in thought when Subcommander Derik told her that she had a visitor waiting for her in the wardroom.  
A wave of dread came over her as she followed him and entered the wardroom. Then she bowed respectfully. “Praetor Tal’aura.”  
“Be seated. We have something to discuss.”  
Donatra sat down and waited, the feeling of dread increasing.  
“Where does your allegiance lie?” Tal’aura asked.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You know exactly of what I speak. You’ve heard the stories about her, and the whispered rumors about her brother, the former vice-proconsul. They are predators of the Romulan people. I’m surprised you would be so foolish as to fall for her charm spell. Save the Empire from the further machinations of House Br’nith, and save yourself before she takes complete control of you.” She placed a small tablet on the table. “Put that in her drink. Don’t think about it, and I can tell you no more, she’ll pluck it from your mind. You are no longer perceiving things accurately. You see reality only as she wishes for you to perceive it, through her veil of implanted suggestions. Do this, and you will both save yourself and be very handsomely rewarded. We’re depending on your allegiance to Romulus.” Donatra hesitated, and Tal’aura continued, “Do not think about it. Simply drop it into her drink. The less you know about it the better.”  
Tal’aura stared at her, until Donatra mumbled a response.  
“What? Does she already have such power over you? How much of your mind is still your own?”  
“My mind is still my own, Praetor.”  
“Then act in your own best interests. What you’re feeling isn’t your own emotions, they’re what she wants you to feel and think. That is her power to influence and manipulate others, and she uses it more ruthlessly than you yet suspect, under the guise of love and friendship. Summon what little free will still remains to you and break free of her. You will be ridding the Empire of a menace.” Tal’aura stood up, and added, “Do not think about it. She can read your mind better than you yet imagine.” Then Tal’aura left.  
Donatra stared at the tiny tablet on the table. Then she slipped it into her pocket. It was easy not to think about it, because she didn’t want to. As soon as she could, she beamed back aboard T’Shara’s small cruiser.  
“How are you?” Donatra asked, “Any better?”  
“Much better,” T’Shara said, embracing her, “No more Romulan ale for me.”  
“I submitted the personnel transfer, I but I haven’t heard anything back from them. They weren’t very positive about the request. Admiral D’bron tried to talk me out of it.”  
“I’m not surprised. They won’t talk to me about it, or indeed talk to me at all. I get written orders and briefs only. Donatra, they’re not going to approve the transfer. If anything, they’ll try to put half a galaxy of separation between us.”  
“Then come with me anyway. We’ll just pick you up once we’re underway.”  
“Don’t tell them that! Besides, I’m sure they’ve already thought of that possibility themselves. Let’s just enjoy the time together that we do have.”  
“I like being with you. You’re the first person who has ever really understood me. I don’t have to explain myself, or justify my feelings.”  
“I do have an unfair advantage that way.”  
“I don’t see it that way. It’s a relief to be myself and still be accepted. I feel more comfortable around you than anyone else.”  
“But the Star Command does see it that way. Along with our age difference and my service record, they see me as a threat to you.”  
“I should get to decide that for myself.”  
“Indeed. But remember they have plans for you, of which I am not a part,” T’Shara paused, feeling her disappointment.  
“Do you agree with them?”  
“In theory. If it were someone else, I would make that same decision. But it’s not someone else, it’s you and me, so I’m too close to be objective. I want very much to be with you, but I also want what’s best for you.”  
“You do agree with them!”  
“Not at all! I will be at your side as long as you’ll have me.” She paused, feeling Donatra’s shock and disappointment, and rejection was not at all what she wanted her lover to feel. “But here, this discussion is not helping anything. Instead of spending what little time we may have together being unhappy, let’s go somewhere peaceful. Gardens, the mountains, or the sea. Away from ships and other people. Forget about missions and other people’s problems for a little while. Romulus really is such a pretty planet. Blue sky, wispy clouds, lovely green fields and forests and beautiful oceans.”  
Donatra smiled, “That would be better. I know the perfect place I would like to take you.”  
“Very well, surprise me.”  
Donatra activated her communication device, “Donatra to Valdore.”  
“Aye.”  
“Two to beam to the Emerald Springs.”  
“Aye, sir.”  
T’Shara and Donatra found themselves on the planet’s surface, beside a waterfall. “Have you ever been here before?” Donatra asked.  
“Once, when I was very young,” T’Shara said, admiring the waterfall. Mineral deposits in the cliff face had worn away over time into multicolored sculptures, as the surrounding stone had eroded, leaving beautiful, natural designs. “The interconnecting pools and waterfalls are one of the many lovely features of Romulus that I’ve missed. I’m very fond of serenity and scenery.”  
“Do you know about the hot springs farther up the trails?”  
“I know of them. They sounded like fun, and my mother would have none of that. Most Betazoids like pleasantness and enjoyment. She’s very different from them, and takes most of her pleasure in denying happiness to others. We decorously observed the waterfall and went back home.”  
“That’s no fun!”  
“The absence of fun was her goal.”  
“Tell me about what it was like growing up,” Donatra asked, as she led T’Shara up the trail. “I know of them, and I knew Vice-Proconsul Br’nith by sight, but that’s all.” The noble houses seldom deigned to let mere military personnel into their private retreats, and she was curious. T’Shara’s father was of the Br’niths, an ancient line with a cruel and bloody past, most Romulans tried to stay out of their sight and out of their way. Donatra was also curious about her Betazoid history. Ambassador Lwaxana Troi was infamously eccentric, and her telepathic powers were formidable. There was an entire protocol at Star Command for avoiding close contact with the Enterprise during surveillance if there were even a chance she was aboard. Cloaking was no defense against being discovered telepathically. Lwaxana’s sister, T’shara’s mother, was a recluse who never left the Br’nith estate. Almost nothing was known about her.  
“I was raised by my aunt on Betazed. My father sent me there when I was eight years old. My brother was a monster. He took our mother’s fondness for psychological and emotional torture a step further, and acquired a taste for killing women. Shinzon did us all a favor by assassinating him. I regret the loss of life for the others, but not him.”  
“I’d heard of girls disappearing after being seen with him. He invited me to join him for a drink one night and I declined. I wasn’t sure why, but I was terrified of him. I avoided him after that.”  
“You were wise.”  
“You’re nothing like him.”  
“That’s all to the good!”  
“You’re not what he claimed, either. He told everyone about his evil, crazy sister who abducted and tortured young women, and who would betray us all to Starfleet.”  
“I see my reputation has preceded me yet again.”  
Donatra could feel the hurt and resignation in her voice. “I’m sorry I said that.”  
“You’re hardly the first. His lies are embedded throughout the Tal Shiar, and at Star Command, as a pre-laid plan to blame me for his crimes. My only defense was to not be on Romulus while he was committing his atrocities. As long as you don’t believe his lies, I’m content.”  
“If I thought any of his lies were true, I would never have approached you. In fact, I think you’re the polar opposite of him.”  
“Thank you, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”  
“I want to make you happy, and I have a feeling that you’re not.”  
“You’re quite perceptive. Maybe you’re becoming empathic. Most Romulans have latent telepathic abilities they never develop.”  
“Will you teach me?”  
“Certainly. I would be delighted to.”  
“So there is a way, without embracing Surak’s teachings about logic? I don’t want to suppress my emotions. I like them, and I like feeling. I also don’t want to only have sex every seven years!”  
T’Shara laughed, “Doesn’t sound very appealing, does it? Do you support reunification with Vulcan?”  
“I don’t oppose it, but I don’t want to be forced to be logical. I don’t want that thrust upon me. That’s why the Romulans split from the Vulcans to begin with. Now that we’ve opened our doors to an alliance with the Federation, do you think they’ll press that agenda?”  
“Their official policy will probably be to stand back and let you sort it out yourselves. Their prime directive includes non-interferences in the internal affairs of other worlds.”  
“And the practical policy? What will happen on the ground?”  
“To stop opposing radicals from blowing things up. The Federation spends a lot of time stopping people from killing each other, and especially innocent bystanders, whom terrorists often love to target.”  
“And if you were Praetor, what would you do?”  
“My goodness, that’s ambitious! I’m happy enough to have a pretty girlfriend and avoid being thrown into crazy jail by the Tal Shiar.”  
“If your evil brother could ascend to power, I’m sure you could, too. And what if your pretty girlfriend pushed you into it?”  
“I’d destroy the Ferengi.”  
“Start a war? Like the one you almost started before?”  
“Finish it.”  
“But why? Can’t you just forget about it?”  
“No! I can’t just forget about it! It’s with me every waking moment! Do you have any idea what being a slave to the Ferengi was like? How sadistic they were to a Romulan woman?” Unpleasant memories of shame and humiliation boiled up to the surface, lashing out like poisonous tentacles in a momentary loss of self-control.  
Donatra flinched at the unintentional bombardment of pain and hate. “I didn’t, but I’m getting an idea.” Then the feeling vanished, buried again, along with the unwanted images. Donatra paused, she doesn’t have to physically torture anyone. She just has to let them feel that with her.  
“I’m sorry to take it out on you. Let’s talk about something else.”  
“Promise me you won’t try to start a war.”  
“What?”  
“You took your revenge, and killed thousands of them. Promise me you won’t escalate and try to start a war.”  
“I don’t know if I can keep a promise like that. I hate them too much, and their behavior infuriates me anew whenever I see them.”  
“If you start a war to exorcise your personal demons, at least one other Romulan woman would suffer what you went through. Probably many more. So it would be both compassionate and logical to forego further vengeance.”  
“Are you sure you’re not studying Surak’s teachings?”  
“I read enough to get the general idea, at least enough for common sense. And, although they are highly illogical, even Betazoids are capable of common sense.”  
“Yes,” T’Shara agreed, “Even Betazoids are capable of common sense.”  
“T’Shara, before I let you on board my ship, I need to know you’re not going to do something to start a war. What if you did get your war, and I was one of the Romulan women captured? Would vengeance still feel good?”  
“You’re a demanding captain, do you know that?”  
“Promise me. Promise me like I’m the woman you’re saving.”  
T’Shara sighed, “Donatra, I promise you that I will not start a war with the Ferengi, especially on the grounds that you might be the one captured. I hope you appreciate what you are asking of me.”  
“I do,” Donatra said, embracing her, “And I will hold you to it. I will also bring you back. You’re still there, and you’re the one who needs saving.”  
T’Shara returned her embrace. “So I am. But I would much rather be here with you.”  
“I’d rather you be here with me, too. So be here with me,” she squeezed T’Shara’s hand. “The mineral springs aren’t too far ahead. Come on.” Holding T’Shara’s hand, she continued on up the trail.  
T’Shara followed Donatra up the increasingly steep trail through the forest, across log bridges and around a sheer cliff with a sharp drop off. Proceeding cautiously, they came to what could charitably be called a puddle. “That’s not it, is it?”  
“No. There are seven pools. It’s the last one we want.” Donatra led T’Shara past the next several pools, which increased in size and attractiveness.  
“That one looks serviceable,” T’Shara said, pointing at the sixth pool. Lucent blue warm water bubbled up from the depths. Natural mineral formations in unique, colorful designs decorated the pool. “It looks like one of the hot springs on Earth.”  
“No, that’s not the one we want,” Donatra smiled, leading her past it, until they came to the last pool, concealed by the trees and brush, which was far larger than the others, with a smaller version of the waterfall by the trailhead. It was large enough to swim in, and the dark color of the surrounding stone gave the impression of great depth despite being only waist deep. Small crystals reflected the overhead light, and twinkled underwater like thousands of stars.  
“Oh, I like this,” T’Shara said.  
“I knew you would. Come on, let’s go in.” Peeling off their clothes, they stepped into the pool. Hot water bubbled up from thermal vents below, mixed with cooler water pouring in from the waterfall.  
“Elements of water and space,” T’Shara said, “I feel like I’m swimming in the sky.”  
“Wait until you see what’s behind the waterfall.”

Fleet Commander Toreth entered the private conference room, intrigued by the possibility of a promotion to Admiral. She nodded respectfully to the man seated at the table, “Admiral D’bron.”  
“Commander Toreth, please be seated.” She sat down, and waited for him to continue. “How would you describe working with Counselor Br’nith?”  
“While it has occasionally come in useful to have a telepath on board during negotiations and conflicts, my final analysis is that the antics aren’t worth the upkeep.”  
“I see. I’m sure you’ve seen the transfer request for her to be moved to the Valdore.”  
“Of course. While I would be pleased to see her leave, I would urge caution in placing her near Commander Donatra. That’s begging for trouble and they’ll find it.”  
“Then I’m sure you appreciate the need for oversight.”  
“Of course.” Then she put it together. “Wait, are you proposing I accept the promotion in order to accompany them?”  
“That’s exactly what we’re proposing. You would be on board to provide sanity and oversight. You would also have the authority to override any bad decisions Commander Donatra might be coerced into making.”  
“Thank you, but that is beyond the scope of one person to accomplish, especially if the counselor starts recruiting followers on board the ship.”  
“We would be sending assistance, in the form of Ambassador Spock. He would be accompanying you on a diplomatic mission to Earth. As will a delegation of six senators.”  
“I see,” Commander Toreth considered the opportunity. She had been a fleet commander for many years, and the promotion to admiral was tempting. “Would my promotion be permanent, despite any disasters orchestrated by the counselor?”  
“Yes. We appreciate your prior years of dedicated service. We also want the ship back in one piece.”  
“Then I will accept.”  
“Excellent. Make the necessary arrangements for a smooth transfer of the Khazara to Commander D’elos. And thank you, Admiral Toreth.”  
“Thank you,” she smiled.

Donatra sat on a flat rock, watching T’Shara washing her hair in the waterfall. There was something beautiful and mesmerizing about seeing her long, wet hair stuck to her body. The communicator on her uniform, folded up nicely out of the way, buzzed. She hesitated to answer it, loathe to interrupt the moment, but she did anyway. “Commander Donatra here.”  
“This is Admiral D’bron of Star Command. I’m informing you that your personnel transfer request for Counselor Br’nith to join your crew has been approved.”  
Donatra was stunned motionless. Then she smiled and answered, “Thank you, Admiral.”  
“Please report back to the Valdore for your mission details.”  
“Yes, immediately, Admiral. And thank you.”  
“D’bron out.”  
Donatra leapt up. “T’Shara! T’Shara!” She slipped into the pool and swam over to the waterfall.  
T’Shara felt her elation and excitement. “What is it?”  
“Star Command accepted the transfer!”  
“What? They did!?”  
“Yes!”  
With a shout of joy, they embraced, and shared a moment of pure happiness. Then Donatra said, “We’re to report back to the Valdore immediately for our mission details.”  
“Oh, I’m so happy!” T’Shara said, and kissed her.  
Then, climbing out of the pool, they put their clothes on and prepared to beam back to the ship. Holding hands, they appeared on the bridge of the Valdore.  
Subcommander Derik was on duty. He said, “They’re waiting for you in the wardroom.”  
“Thank you, subcommander,” Donatra said, and still holding T’Shara’s hand in excitement and joy, walked into the wardroom. Waiting for them were Admiral D’bron, Admiral Toreth, and Ambassador Spock. Her immediate reaction was surprise, followed by the empathic sensation of “Aaaahhh, shit,” from T’Shara. It was a human saying, and an odd one, but she had overheard it from the Enterprise crew and knew what it meant.  
“Please be seated,” Admiral D’bron said.  
Commander Donatra and Counselor T’Shara Br’nith took their seats as Ambassador Spock and Admiral D’bron stared at Admiral Toreth. She was known for her directness, and as one of the few commanders who had successfully employed T’Shara in the past.  
“First things first,” Admiral Toreth began, “There will be rules. Proper bridge etiquette will be observed at all times. Counselor, I expect you to respect duty and protocol. That includes no sleeping during duty hours, no eating or smoking on the bridge, and you are expected to wear a uniform. No cleavage will be visible, and you will wear your hair up and pulled back, not wild like some Klingon warrior. Any parties, festivals, holidays, and especially sorcery will be submitted to me via written proposal before they occur. There will be no unexpected Betazoid holidays or suddenly occurring religious observances. There will be no unauthorized drug use or transport of any contraband items. Any infraction of the rules will result in immediate disciplinary action. Can you abide by these terms?”  
“I will agree to your terms, Admiral,” T’Shara agreed.  
“And you will be held to them,” Toreth said, holding T’Shara in her gaze. What she didn’t say was that the Khazara would shadow the Valdore under cloak throughout the flight, so if worst came to worst, Toreth would have the backup firepower she needed to make sure things went her way. She noticed T’Shara twitch, and knew that thought had been successfully transmitted. Remember it, Toreth thought in T’Shara’s direction. You will not be permitted to gain the upper hand. She looked over at the young commander. Donatra was sparkling with the first flush of unsuccessfully hidden infatuation, her eyes slightly tinted violet and bright with adoration for what Toreth considered her biggest personnel problem. Poor girl, she thought, another victim of the intensity of sex with an empath. Then again, every fool must learn. “Commander Donatra, I will also hold you personally responsible for any disasters devised by the Counselor, whether resulting from telepathy, empathic projections and distractions, elemental sorcery or more conventional means. Do you accept these terms?”  
“I accept,” Donatra said.  
Ambassador Spock raised an eyebrow, “Sorcery, Admiral?”  
“With all due respect, Ambassador,” Toreth said, “You haven’t seen anything yet.”  
“I am intrigued,” Spock said.  
“That will pass,” Toreth predicted, “And be replaced with a unique combination of regret and aggravation that only Counselor Br’nith can create.”  
“Then this promises to be a most interesting voyage,” Spock said.

Before the voyage could begin, Donatra had to visit her mother and say goodbye. As far as she knew, she wasn’t leaving for anything longer than a diplomatic voyage. But any spaceflight could be her last, Donatra knew that from experience. She knocked on the door of 87 Vekna Street, Vela’Setora. Most of the province looked much the same, the people going on about their business the same as they ever had, as though the Dominion Wars and the Reman Rebellion had never happened. But that was just the exterior.  
The door opened quickly, and Donatra entered the house, the door closing as swiftly as it had opened. “No one followed me,” Donatra said.  
“Tell me all about it,” her mother said, sitting her down on a chair. “I want to hear all about what she’s really like. The Betazoid.”  
“What?” Donatra stared at her in shock. “How do you know about her?”  
“Everyone knows by now, dearheart. You were seen with her leaving some crewman’s pub where the night birds ply their trade. I’m not judging you, dear, I’m only glad that you’re still alive after all the absurd things you’ve done!”  
“Suran must have told you.”  
“The entire Fleet might have told me, dear. But I’m far more interested in your version. Tell me everything.”  
“Mother!”  
“She’s royalty, Donatra. On two different planets. If you like her I say go for it. Just make sure you get something out of it.”  
“What? Mother!”  
“I had my chance, a long time ago, before I met your father. I met an off-world prince. Handsome man, part Vulcan. But I listened to the wrong people and let him go because of the stigma against off-worlders. Was that ever a mistake! That’s how I ended up with your father.”  
“Mother!”  
“Not that he wasn’t a good man, he was. Very perceptive, and good looking, after a drink or two. But if we had left Romulus years ago, we wouldn’t have always been looking over our shoulders, and he wouldn’t have gotten himself executed for treason. And if I’d gone with the Vulcan, well, I’m sure there would have been vast amounts of stilted logic but I would never have had to worry who was at my door.”  
Donatra sighed, and accepted the tea her mother offered her. “Are you saying I should leave Romulus?”  
“I don’t know,” she answered, sitting down. She blew on her own tea to cool it down. “I won’t have my own opinion on that until you tell me what she’s really like. She is beautiful, everyone can see that, and it’s why no one has killed her yet. But tell me, dear, what happened? Did you mate-bond with her?”  
“I met her at an ale bar,” Donatra said, “I was out with Derik and some of the other bridge crew. She was sitting alone, smoking. Then I heard this voice in my head inviting me to come over or to stop staring at her. I felt shy, and like I was unworthy, but I knew I’d never get another chance. She was beautiful from across the room, but,” Donatra paused, and noticed the older woman leaning forward and hanging on her every word, “It wasn’t until I sat down with her that I felt it. Not just beauty, but understanding without judgement. Like magic. I don’t know what the mate-bond feels like, but that might be it.”  
“Donatra, she’s a Betazoid!”  
“I know. I know! It’s like having someone’s hand inside my head and around my heart! But only when I ask her to. She never pries into my mind, she always asks, and says that it’s a crime on Betazed to read the thoughts of others without an invitation.”  
“Telepaths. That’s one of the things that the Tal Shiar searches for. They recruit them or kill them.” Then she paused, “How does it feel? When she reads your mind?”  
“Effortless. It feels like being hugged and kissed.”  
“Really? I heard the Tal Shiar has mind reading technology that is quite painful.”  
“No, it was nothing like that. There was nothing painful about it. It was quite pleasurable, actually. Like a caress, or a tickle.”  
“How exhilarating! I can only imagine what…”  
“Mother!”  
“It’s true. No wonder the Tal Shiar wants to kill her.”  
Donatra squeezed the cup in her hand. “That and the evil brother.”  
“Is she like that?”  
“No. I never felt like I was in danger.”  
“Even a little? Something you might want to hide from yourself? A horrible little sensation you don’t want to admit to because you don’t want it to be there?”  
“No, exactly the opposite. I feel more like I have the keys to hidden sides of myself.”  
“Are you sure? You said yourself you don’t know what the mate-bond feels like.”  
“How am I supposed to know for certain what the mate-bond feels like if I’ve never experienced it?”  
“Do you love her?”  
“Yes. I would love her even if she ignored me. That would be easier, to admire from a distance. But this is demanding and powerful. Can I love her and doubt her at the same time?”  
“What is it you doubt?”  
“Why does she want me?”  
“Perhaps for the same reasons the rest of them wanted you. Maybe just because you’re beautiful. It could be some alien reason. What do you really think, or feel, when you’re alone? What does your heart tell you?”  
“All I know for sure is that she’s beautiful, and that this chance will never come again. And I’m learning so much from her. She told me that all Romulans have latent telepathic abilities, and that she could teach me. I want to learn, but I don’t want to make myself a target of the Tal Shiar.”  
“The former vice proconsul is dead. So she could be the last target or off their radar completely, especially if she returns to Federation space and never comes back. That’s what I would do if I were in that position. It’s logical.”  
“Are you still reading that Vulcan literature?”  
“Of course.”  
“Mother, how many ways can you think of to make yourself a target for the Tal Shiar?”  
“Only well hidden ones, dear. You’re the one who decided to have an affair with a Betazoid princess. So use it to your advantage. If your mission succeeds and we have an alliance with the Federation, Vulcan philosophy will go from contraband to merely dull reading.”  
“I take it you are hoping my mission does succeed.”  
“Obviously. It should have happened years ago. And your father would be proud of you for helping to bring it about. He would also want you to make the most of this latest opportunity.”  
“You would have me use T’Shara for political purposes.”  
“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, Donatra. Don’t waste it. Don’t do anything foolish to alienate her or the other Federation operatives. Earth, Betazed, and Vulcan are far more politically stable than Romulus. Even you must have noticed that! If I were in your place I would use her position to leverage myself to Empress. All you have to do is maintain her affection, and guide her in the right direction. The Federation will want a stable alliance with Romulus, and who better to fill that job description than someone they already like and trust? You! So don’t waste this opportunity!”  
“Mother, it sounds like you missed your true calling.”  
“I haven’t missed anything yet. Your destiny is to become Empress, and I am going to help you do it. Just take my advice and ingratiate yourself to the Federation and their Betazoid princess. And continue to cultivate your friendship with Captain Picard. He’s more powerful than his title suggests. You also have the opportunity to make friends with Ambassador Spock. This is the chance of a lifetime. Don’t waste it!”  
“Mother, you’ve managed to turn a love affair of less than a week into a political agenda.”  
“Everything on Romulus is a political agenda. You know that. You’ve made some stupid decisions in the past, like getting involved with Shinzon, and a foolish affair with that married admiral. For a change you’ve found a treasure trove, and an affair that will make your career instead of hinder it. Just don’t do anything stupid!”  
Donatra sighed, “Yes, Mother. Am I to be Empress of Romulus while you stand behind me and rule?”  
“Obviously. Now get to it! Just don’t do anything stupid to ruin things!”  
“I think I should be getting back to the ship now. There are some final preparations before we’re ready to leave.”  
“Good. Now remember what I told you.”  
“Yes, Mother.”  
Upon returning to the Valdore, Donatra found the crew nearly finished with all last minute repairs, and almost ready to depart. She found T’Shara parking her cruiser in the shuttle bay, laughing with several crew members about how out of place it looked. Donatra excused the crew and spoke with T’Shara privately.  
“How did your visit with you mother go?”  
“She has grand plans to place me as Empress of Romulus.”  
T’Shara burst into laughter. “I would expect nothing less. Sounds like a Romulan mother to me.”

The Klingon ship was cruising along at warp two alongside the Neutral Zone, when they picked up a distress call. “Let’s hear it,” the Klingon commander said, “On screen.”  
On the forward viewscreen an image of a portly alien appeared, looking the wrong direction. The Klingons waited a minute, and then sent the aliens a loud buzzing noise to get their attention. The alien finally turned, and stared at them.  
“This is Commander W’shehogh of the Klingon warship Xelmucx. Who are you?”  
“We are Pakleds. We need help.”  
“What is the problem?”  
“Our ship is the Mondor. It is broken. We need help.”  
“Broken how?” the Klingon commander asked.  
“It is broken. We need help.”  
The Klingon commander became irritated and turned to his helmsman, “Scan their ship.”  
Moments later the Klingon helmsman responded, “Their primary guidance system is nonfuctional, as are their shields and weapons systems. The ship is mangled collection of old junk from other species. They have an old Romulan shield which is completely offline, and their main power comes from a Vulcan reactor over seventy years old.”  
The Klingon commander thought for a moment, “It sounds like everyone already has helped them.”  
“We need help,” the Pakled captain repeated, “Our ship is broken.”  
“Commander,” the helmsman said, “Their life support system is Klingon.”  
“Check our databanks. Who of our people helped them before?”  
A few moments later the helmsman responded, “The G’roth found them adrift five years ago, and installed the new life support system, replacing a failing Vulcan model that was over eighty years old. The captain’s notes include a reference to the creatures stealing weapons while their ship was being repaired. A bunch of useless to’pahs!”  
The other Klingons bristled with irritation. “Commander, we should destroy them for their treachery!”  
The Pakled captain said, “We are not strong. We need help. Our ship is broken.”  
“Shoot them!” several Klingons agreed.  
“Uh oh,” the Pakled captain said, as the other Pakleds ran for cover behind their useless equipment. “You are angry. We need help.”  
“They are a shipload of worthless to’pahs!” the helmsman said. “We should shoot them!”  
“No,” the commander decided, “There is no honor is killing these creatures, only shame. Nor do I wish to encounter them again in the afterlife.” He shuddered inside, the very thought of the Pakleds somehow becoming entangled in his destiny, or worse, being fated to cause them a place among the honored dead and dishonor himself in the process, was chilling. It was grievous enough to have even encountered them.  
“Commander,” the tactical officer said, “Their ship is overflowing with defunct reactor cores and spent fuel. If we shoot them we would be caught up in the blast and it would cover the entire Neutral Zone with radioactive waste.”  
“We need help,” the Pakleds repeated.  
“And we need rid of you,” the Klingon commander thought aloud. Then he announced to his crew, “Let’s aim them into Romulan space!” All the Klingons roared with laughter. “Helmsman, engage the tractor beam, and we’ll push them as fast as they’ll fling!”  
The Klingon ship moved into position, and aiming the Pakled vessel straight for Romulus, engaged the tractor beam, gaining a firm grasp. Slow at first, the Klingons accelerated until they were at full impulse speed and then they released the tractor beam as their own ship came to a full stop. The Klingons howled with laughter as they watched the Pakleds shoot off into the distance toward Romulus.  
“That’s the last we’ll see of them,” the Klingon commander laughed, as he nearly fell out of his chair. The other Klingons roared with laughter along with him.  
“Should we notify the High Council and the Federation?” the helmsman asked.  
“No, they’ll only whine and complain like they always do,” the commander answered. “If anyone ever sees that pile of junk again we’ll be long gone!” Then he added, “Back on our original course.”  
“Yes, sir.”

The Romulan warbird Valdore was cruising along with their cloaking device engaged when the helmsman noticed an alien incoming message through subspace. “Commander,” he said, “We’re receiving a distress call from an unknown vessel.”  
“On screen,” Donatra said. She was enjoying herself and reclining comfortably in her seat, T’Shara beside her, as they always did whenever Admiral Toreth and Ambassador Spock weren’t supervising them. She was glad the delegation of senators stayed off the bridge. The counselor had been sending her telepathic sweet nothings, but that would have to wait. She gently removed T’Shara’s hand from her thigh and prepared to talk to the aliens. An ugly brown boxy ship appeared on the screen, and then the image of a heavily jowled male humanoid looking off to the side appeared. She waited and looked over at T’Shara, who burst into laughter. “What is it?”  
“He’s looking the wrong way,” T’Shara laughed, and Donatra laughed with her. The rest of the crew cracked a smile. They always had more fun when Admiral Toreth wasn’t around, and tonight she was in her quarters after becoming frustrated with T’Shara and Donatra touching each other. The alien noticed their laughter and turned towards them.  
“This is Commander Donatra of the Imperial Romulan warbird Valdore. How may we be of assistance?”  
“We need help,” the alien said.  
“What kind of help?” Donatra asked.  
“Our ship is the Mondor. It is broken.”  
“Who are you?”  
“We are Pakleds. Our ship is broken. We need help.”  
“Broken how?” Donatra asked. “What is wrong with your vessel?”  
“It won’t go,” the alien said.  
“Why not? What is wrong with it?”  
“It is broken.”  
“That’s too vague. What exactly is wrong with it?”  
“We don’t know. It won’t go. It is broken.”  
“Broken how? Why won’t it go? How did you get this far?”  
“Commander,” the helmsman said, “They’re drifting straight towards Romulus.”  
“What are you doing here in the Neutral Zone?” Donatra asked.  
“We look for things.”  
“Be more descriptive. What kind of things?”  
“Things to make our ship go.”  
“How did you get into the Neutral Zone?”  
“Klingons pushed us. They made us go.”  
Donatra said, “Helmsman, scan their ship. See if you can find out what’s wrong with it.”  
“Everything is wrong with it,” the helmsman said. “The whole ship is a polyglot of parts from other species. The life support system is Klingon. Their guidance system is a nonfunctional old Starfleet system, weapons are offline, a nonoperational Romulan shield, their warp drive is a spent seventy year old Vulcan model, and they have a Romulan cloaking device that will never work even if they figured out how to use it, because,” he paused and laughed, “It’s not even plugged in.” The crew erupted into laughter.  
“You are smart. We need help,” the Pakled captain said.  
“Clearly,” Donatra agreed.  
“Will you mate with us?”  
Donatra froze for a moment in shock, while T’Shara almost fell out of her chair laughing. Recovering her composure, Donatra said, “No! I’m not interested in interspecies erotica!”  
“We like mating. We need help.”  
“No! And we are definitely not going to help you with that!” Several of the crew members joined in the counselor’s laughter, while others stood back, clearly offended. “I should destroy you for your rudeness and temerity in even suggesting such a thing!”  
“Uh oh, you are angry. Our ship is broken. We need help.” Several Pakleds on the bridge of their ship ran and hid behind some equipment.  
Donatra threw up her hands and exclaimed, “Where are your own women, and how did you freaking retards ever get off the ground and into space to begin with?”  
“Uh oh, you said bad words,” the Pakled captain said, “We need help. Our women sent us to look for things.”  
T’Shara burst out into a fresh peal of laughter, followed by the rest of the bridge crew, “They blasted the most unwantable guys off their planet and told them it was an honor to be chosen! They’re not to return until they find something. If they even know how to get back where they came from.”  
“You need more help than we can offer!” Donatra said. Then she turned to Subcommander Derik, “Check our databanks. See if you can find out how they got Romulan shields and one of our old cloaking devices.”  
“Yes, commander,” Derik said, managing to control his laughter long enough to do his job. He’d been skeptical about the Betazoid, but having her around was so much fun and made Donatra so happy that he’d come to enjoy it. No other assignment would ever be like this one was. Not only was this an historic mission of peace between the Romulan Empire and the Federation, but despite his initial misgivings, T’Shara and Donatra were a lot of fun. This mission was unlike any he had been on before. He set to work immediately scouring their databases for anything useful.  
“We need help,” the Pakled answered. “We need help to make our ship go.”  
“Commander,” Derik said, “I found out where the cloaking device came from. The Klahowya was floundering after a fight with the Klingons, and these creatures answered their distress call. Instead of rendering aid they scavenged the ship, stealing weapons and their cloaking device. The shields came from assistance rendered by the Kitok. They too reported stolen weapons.”  
“Thieves! We should destroy them,” Donatra concluded.  
“That explains their emotional state,” T’Shara told her, “Helplessness is not what they feel. They want weapons and whatever else they can steal. They have poorly developed language skills and are unwilling to wait until they develop technology themselves. Instead they are just cunning enough to beg, borrow and steal from other species by pretending to be helpless and taking advantage of others’ goodwill. No one should set foot on that vessel. They take hostages in order to force others into helping them.”  
“Thank you, Counselor,” Donatra said. “Arm the disruptors.”  
“Commander,” the helmsman said, “Our sensors indicate the ship is filled with used Cardassian warp cores and spent fuel. If we fire on the vessel the resulting explosion would cover the entire Neutral Zone with radiation and destroy us in the process. It is also still drifting on a course toward Romulus.”  
Donatra turned to the Pakleds, “How did you get all those old warp cores?”  
“From the Ferengi. Warp cores make us strong.”  
“No,” Donatra explained, “They make you a derelict garbage barge.”  
The crew erupted into laughter and the Pakled said, “You say bad words.”  
“A garbage barge the Klingons thought it would be humorous to aim at us,” T’Shara said. “I have an idea. Those damn Ferengi tricked these creatures into taking their radioactive trash rather than disposing of it properly, as the Cardassians probably paid them to do. I suggest we do what the Klingons did, but push that garbage barge right back towards the Ferengi homeworld. Let them deal with it like they should have to begin with.” She smiled at Donatra, who smiled back at her.  
“Uh oh,” the Pakled said, “Romulans say bad words.”  
“Have fun on Ferenginar,” Donatra said, waving goodbye. Then the Pakleds disappeared off the screen. An image of their ship remained. “We can’t let that ship of fools and its toxic cargo drift any closer to Romulus. Engage the tractor beam and push them towards the Ferengi homeworld. Let’s send their trash back.”  
The helmsman moved the ship into position, locked the tractor beam onto the Pakled vessel, and began to accelerate. Then they stopped and watched the Pakled ship tumble away towards the Ferengi homeworld. Donatra sat back down next to T’Shara, and they laughed along with the rest of the crew. T’Shara laughed until she cried. Then she wiped the tears from her eyes, and squeezed Donatra’s hand.  
Donatra squeezed her hand in return and said, “Subcommander Derik, you have the bridge for the rest of the night shift.”  
“Yes, Commander.”  
Donatra and T’Shara left the bridge, and once they were alone in Donatra’s quarters, they broke out into laughter again. “How did those rude creatures ever achieve space flight?” Donatra asked.  
“Somebody helped those deceitful tards,” T’Shara laughed, “Possibly just to annoy everyone else as some sort of joke. Or perhaps Pakled women are several orders of magnitude more intelligent than the males and tricked the most unwantable ones into thinking it’s an honor to be blasted off the planet in a garbage can.”  
“That would explain it,” Donatra agreed, putting her arms around T’Shara. “I still can’t believe they really asked us to mate with them!” Then they both laughed again, until Donatra said, “But let’s forget about them. The closest I want to come to interspecies mating is you.” The memory of Shinzon briefly flashed through her mind, a dark, shameful rejection. Acute embarrassment.  
“What is it?” T’Shara asked. “Have I hurt you?”  
“No, not you. Someone else.”  
“It’s still a painful memory for you. Will you let me heal it?”  
“How?”  
“By understanding that it wasn’t about you. His reaction was all about him. Any other Romulan woman would have been treated the same way. Don’t take it personally.”  
“Are you saying that he didn’t see me as a woman, or even a person?”  
“Even more remote. A piece on a chessboard. But darling, that was his curse, not yours. Let it go, and understand that it truly had nothing to do with you.”  
“It’s difficult to accept.”  
“Is there a difference between him and me? What does it feel like?”  
“He wanted power. I always felt that. But I wanted power too, or at least I thought I did. You make me feel like I’m part of Nature, that the Universal Mind meant for us to be together. Or,” Donatra laughed softly, “At least I know that you do see me as a beautiful woman. And I like that.”  
“Then you have the perspective to make the pain and shame go away. Cast it aside. Don’t drag it with you.”  
“There was another,” Donatra said, leaning against T’Shara and putting her head on her shoulder. “We were secret lovers. I obsessed over him, loved him, and then he died.” She paused, “I still miss him.”  
“I can alter perceptions, but death is final. But tell me, why was your love affair a secret?”  
Donatra paused, feeling a different sort of guilt and shame. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning against T’Shara. But she felt no judgement from her, only the patience of one who has heard it all twice before. So she told her secret. “He was already married to another.”  
“I see. A wise professor once told me to choose my life’s mate carefully, that ninety percent of a person’s happiness or misery comes from that one decision. Time and again observing others I have found that to be true.” She kissed Donatra’s ear and squeezed her gently as they lay together. “The most interesting part,” she added, “Is how the energy radiates from a relationship. A happy one lifts up all those around them, while an unhappy one sows discontent among friends, family, and everyone they meet.”  
“I had not heard it said that way before, but I think you are right. Is that a Betazoid thing?”  
“It is most obvious on Betazed, where everyone can feel the comforting contentment of visiting a happy couple, or conversely, sense the negative effects of the waves of jealousy and cruelty that can emanate from bad relationships, but the physics is universal. Though unseen, it is the same everywhere. Look for it, my dear, and trust your feelings. See and feel the effects of relationships, and you will never again be drawn towards those who will treat you as an object or a dirty little secret.”

Donatra was awakened in the middle of the night by a message from Subcommander Derik. “There is a subspace communication from Commander Suran,” he said.  
“Patch it through in my quarters,” Donatra said, quietly getting up out of bed. T’Shara was asleep, and she didn’t want to awaken her. Closing the door to the bedroom, she sat down at the desk and answered the call. “Yes, Commander?”  
“Donatra. Have you completed your mission?”  
“Mission? We’re still en route to Earth.”  
“The other mission. The one given to you by Praetor Tal’aura.”  
“No.”  
“Why not? I trust you have had ample time and opportunity. Or are you unwilling to carry out orders?”  
Donatra had not thought about those orders at all, and resented being reminded of them. Nor could she imagine actually bringing herself to do it. “I am not the right person for that task.”  
“You are the perfect person for that task. You’re the only person who can get close enough! She senses the rest of us and won’t let anyone else within arm’s reach of her. Do it quickly and without regret.”  
“I can’t.”  
“You mean you won’t. Why? Or have you fallen victim to her influence? Need I remind you of the consequences of disobeying a direct order from Praetor Tal’aura?”  
“No.”  
“Then why the delay? The Empire is vulnerable as long as a Br’nith operates, and T’shara is a known Federation spy. She always has been. Are you still loyal to the Empire?”  
“I am no spy, Suran.”  
“Your footsteps are becoming those of a traitor in progress.”  
“There could be no more treacherous and dishonorable act than poisoning someone who loves you.”  
“Understand this and understand it well. She does not love you. She’s using you to get what she wants. She’s an empath, what you’re feeling is what she wants you to feel. Your mind and heart are being subverted away from your own best interests to serve hers. An evil telepath can do as much damage as a changeling and just as quickly. When she’s burned through you she’ll discard you like a pile of ashes and go on to the next shiny new toy, because that’s all you are to her, a new plaything that she will lose interest in like she has all the rest. Don’t be naïve enough to believe you’re any different,” he paused, “I’m not trying to be cruel, I’m trying to help you.”  
“I’m grateful for all your help, Suran, but…”  
“But what? It’s a mind game, Donatra. She’s hypnotized you and is using you for her own purposes! Dispose of her quickly and regain your own mind!”  
“I know my own mind, Commander, and I know what I want.”  
“Whatever lies she may have told you, the fact is you cannot build a normal, happy life with her. The bond between husband and wife is a deep and sacred one, and she can’t replace it with her witchcraft. Nor will you ever know the happiness of a having a home, and you will never have the blessing of children. You’ve never experienced that family feeling, so you don’t know what you’re sacrificing on the altar of her boundless selfishness. She’s taken everything of value away from you before you even had it and for what? For a dangerous, brief love affair that you didn’t even choose because she’s manipulating you empathically and telepathically. Donatra, her charms and claims of love are an illusion. But the life you’re giving up is real.”  
“How is it you can presume to know what I want and feel?”  
“Because I’ve seen her work before. I saw another young woman in her arms thirty years ago with that same dreamy expression of mind controlled love in her eyes that I see in yours.”  
“And what happened to her?”  
“She came to her senses before it was too late and married the man her parents chose for her, and joined their houses together, as was right.”  
“What is her name? I would be very curious to speak with her.”  
“I will not divulge her identity to you and allow Br’nith a second chance to destroy her life.”  
“Then without proof, why should I believe you?”  
“Because I care about you. I’ve helped you, guided you, mentored you into command at a young age. And now you’re going to betray me to run away with a treacherous Betazoid princess? You’ll lose everything you’ve worked for. What will happen when she abandons you? And she will grow tired of you and move on to the next pretty face. You’re no longer perceiving things accurately. Please listen to me, I know what’s best for you.”  
“I will decide that for myself.”  
“Donatra, please think at least of your own future. Even if she were all that you believe she is, and by some unforeseen miracle her love is true, and she remains faithful to you, you would still have to live with the reality of what is. With her, your loyalty to Romulus will always be suspect, and you will be hunted by her enemies. Always known as the woman who abandoned her people for the Betazoid outcast? What will happen to you when the Tal Shiar sets upon her in earnest? She has no access to the wealth and privilege of the Br’nith house. She can’t give you the benefits of a royal marriage, only a long list of liabilities. Along with uncertainty, you will also have to forego the great joys of a family and children. It may be pleasurable now, but as you grow older, even T’Shara’s great beauty will fade, and the full weight of the curse you have drawn down upon yourself will be revealed to you in a river of tears. Only then, in the later years of your life, friendless, forgotten and alone, will the foolish choices of your youth be bitterly tasted and regretted. What will be your comfort then?”  
“Thank you for your concern, Suran, and that bleak prediction of my future. I don’t need someone else’s royal treasury and there are medical techniques we can use to have children if and when the time comes.”  
“And give birth to weaklings who could never survive our rites of passage? Your children would be as weak and willful as a Betazoid. They are as fragile as glass. I’m sure you know that by now.”  
Donatra had indeed noticed the difference. One hit from a Klingon or Jem’Hadar soldier would shatter T’Shara’s bones. That’s why she would never allow them to get that close, and would use some sort of psionic attack to disable them before they could touch her. “What they lack in physical strength they more than make up for in psychological attacks. After all, that’s what you’re so afraid of, isn’t it? Like you said earlier, a telepath can do just as much damage as a changeling, and just as quickly. So please refrain from insulting what may be my own future house.” Donatra noticed a flicker pass through Suran’s face, and knew she had hit a nerve. You don’t want that, do you, she thought. No, not at all. They want her dead, not having children. They’ll want me dead, too, so I can’t read his emotions like I’m doing right now.  
“What about us? What about our plans?” Suran asked. He felt a prickling sensation in his mind and an unpleasant stare from Donatra. She’s learning how to mind rape, he thought. It’s the first thing the witch teaches her minions, just like the Tal Shiar telepaths. They should all die, he thought, including that one I used to love.  
“I hope we will meet again one day, Suran. And I remain grateful to you for your guidance,” Donatra said, feeling his last thought, “And I am no violator, whatever you may now think of me.”  
“Then you are turning your back on me and all of Romulus.”  
“No, you’re abandoning me.”  
“Don’t be a fool, Donatra! You’ve changed. When I look at you now, I see the eyes of a stranger, not someone I’ve known for years. Come to your senses before it’s too late!”  
“I know what I want. Goodbye, Suran. Donatra out.”  
She returned to the bedroom and climbed back into bed, feeling tension and dread pressing down on her. She had intentionally not thought about Tal’aura’s assassination plan, and resented the reminder. Her restlessness woke T’Shara up.  
“What is it? Why are you so miserable?”  
Donatra got up and took the tablet out of her uniform pocket. She put it in T’Shara’s hand. “I can’t do it. Forgive me.”  
“For what am I to forgive you for, Donatra?” T’Shara asked, looking at the tablet in her hand.  
“I was told to drop that into your drink, but I can’t do it.”  
T’Shara put the tablet down. “Who gave you that order?”  
Donatra hesitated, not wanting to verbalize Tal’aura’s plot. “I know you can read my mind.”  
“I won’t penetrate your thoughts without your permission,” T’Shara said softly, “But I want to know who sent you to assassinate me.”  
“Suran and Tal’aura. I wasn’t supposed to think about it, just to do it.”  
“I can tell,” T’Shara said gently, “I can feel how torn you are, caught between loyalties. You’re afraid that by telling me, I’ll retaliate. You’re also afraid that by not complying with their wishes, they’ll kill you.” She paused, and knew from Donatra’s shaking emotions that she was right. “You’re also afraid that now you’ve confessed, that I’ll abandon you. But I won’t. I know how Romulus works. I know all about power and betrayal. I forgive you.”  
Donatra stared at her in amazement. “How?”  
“Because you are far more precious to me than power. Praetors come and praetors go. Noble houses rise and fall, each thinking they’ll last forever.”  
“You did read my mind.”  
“No, I read theirs. Long ago. It’s not that difficult! They all think the same thing. The same thoughts and plots, over and over again. I know what Tal’aura wants. I know how Suran used you. The way the old always manipulate the young. Plots are hatched, and people are conscripted into them. You’re one of few pretty young women they have to aim at me. Suran and Tal’aura both had a plan set in motion before you were even born. I saw them coming a long time ago.”  
“Suran used me, too? I trusted him. This isn’t fair. You know what everyone else is thinking and feeling. How can I trust you, either? What do you want me for?”  
“He used you in more ways than you’re old enough to appreciate. All I want is your love, and to know I can trust you. You already have both my love and my loyalty. I want someone I can trust to care more for my feelings than about how much they can get from me. I’ve been used, too, on both sides of the Neutral Zone. Most commanders see me as an unreliable weapon. If they can’t use me, they will attempt to deprive others of that power. Like the person who gave you that poison.”  
“What if I do use you? I wanted you on my ship to gain an advantage.”  
“What would you use me for? To learn secrets? To gain power? To read the minds of others, or influence their thoughts and feelings?”  
“Would you still love me if I did?”  
“For a while. Until arrogance and greed destroy that love and affection. Remember what a monster those powers enabled my brother to turn into.”  
“But you’re not like him, and neither am I,” Donatra said, “I want to learn everything you can teach me. I want to be able to do what you can do by myself.”  
“And what will you do with such abilities?”  
“If you won’t pursue power and become Praetor yourself, maybe I should.”  
“Indeed. I suppose someone has to, and you think it should be you?”  
“Why not me?”  
“The quick turnover rate and low lifespan of the job doesn’t appeal to me. I’m surprised it appeals to you.”  
“Without telepathic abilities that would be true. But with you teaching me,” Donatra took her hand and squeezed it, “Especially with you beside me, no one can deceive us or act against us.”  
“My goodness you’re an ambitious girl!”  
“Is that a bad thing?”  
“It concerns me. A little bit of ambition can be a good thing. Too much is definitely not.”  
“But T’Shara, think of what we could do! The average Romulan lives a life of rampant paranoia and fear. Instead of wasting resources terrorizing the population we could make life better for everyone and get rid of the Tal Shiar. Instead of rule by fear, have loyalty from gratitude and affection. I don’t want the people to fear me, I want them to love me because I made their lives better.”  
“Sweetheart, I endorse your philosophy, and no doubt everyone still living in a backward village in a mud hut on stilts or small, depressing gray apartments within city walls will too, but those already in power will not. Especially not the Tal Shiar. They are an empire within an empire, and they won’t willingly give up power. They won’t take kindly to your egalitarianism any more than they like me or trust the Federation. That’s why they spread lies and disinformation to turn people against each other.”  
With telepathy, she smiled, we can influence them too, she thought. It will work.  
Donatra, dear, it’s already being done. My mother is the head of the Tal Shiar, and she’s way ahead of us.  
How can that be?  
Everything you’ve thought of, she’s already done in the opposite direction. All for her beloved son, so he could rule Romulus and then the entire galaxy. She rules Romulus through the Tal Shiar, through the Praetor, through them all. And she never leaves the comfort and security of her own house. My mother is a torture artist, and I was her favorite canvas. There’s a reason she is unwelcome on Betazed. She uses emotional and psychological torture to make her victims light up in a constellation of pain amidst the infinite backdrop of hopelessness and despair caused by the knowledge that there is no defense, and no way out. The suffering is eternal, and so intense that her victims wish for death, all without her ever even touching them. Her other favorite victims were her son’s first wife and daughter, her own mother, mother-in-law, and niece. Their deaths were all victories in a strange, incomprehensible game that I do not understand. Now they are all ashes in urns, tucked away in her closet. I used to watch her gloat over her collection, and it filled me with terror.  
And she hates you, Donatra suddenly realized. Why?  
Because my father thought I was prettier than she was and he couldn’t bury his thoughts or his love deep enough to hide them from her. I cried every day as a child, and everyone thought there was something wrong with me. That’s why my father sent me to live with my aunt on Betazed, so she couldn’t kill me.  
Does she cherish the deaths of male members of your family?  
No, quite to the contrary. She spoils them into monsters, until, like the former proconsul, they are more demonic minions than men. I still wonder how she perceives her life improving once all her female relatives have been reduced to ashes. But perhaps I’m missing something important. I never could comprehend her motives. I know there’s an empty urn in her closet with my name on it, right next to Grandma’s.  
Does she know about us?  
The whole ship knows about us. Suran and Tal’aura know about us.  
I think I understand.  
And that is why I need to be able to trust you.  
You can trust me not to abuse you or what you’re teaching me.  
Good. Then we’re starting from the right place. Throw away that poison and come back to bed.

Suran sat quietly and stared at the blank screen. Then he sent a message to Praetor Tal’aura.  
“Well?” she asked. “Is that Betazoid witch dead?”  
“No. Instead there is another.”  
“Disloyal telepaths are a threat the Empire cannot afford, Commander. The Tal Shiar has purged them from among the population for generations. Only those who serve the Empire faithfully are permitted to survive. The others are too great a risk. If Donatra will not complete her mission then she must be disposed of as well.”  
“Perhaps we should attempt to recover her. She may yet break free from the spell she is under.”  
“That is unlikely, Commander. If you want Donatra to have a merciful death, then set your own operatives in motion, and do it quickly. Otherwise, I will make an example of her when she returns to Romulus.”

Donatra awoke to the melodic tones that signaled the start of a new day. No noisy buzzers for her, music was much nicer to wake up to. T’Shara stirred next to her, and Donatra pulled her closer, feeling her heartbeat and her breathing.  
“Good morning,” T’Shara said.  
“I don’t want to get out of bed.”  
“Why not?”  
“You already know.”  
“Because you don’t want to face what’s out there, or because you’d rather have sex all day?”  
“Both. I’m dreading any more calls from Tal’aura or Suran. Almost as much as I don’t want to see Toreth and Spock or those sullen senators staring at me over breakfast.”  
“Don’t let them intimidate you.”  
“I can’t help it.”  
“It’s still your ship, Donatra.”  
“I know, but it’s hard when that Vulcan and Toreth are staring at me. I feel like a child.”  
“Don’t let them do that to you. Spock isn’t doing it on purpose, I’m sure of it, Vulcans get no pleasure out of demeaning others, but Toreth likes to see you squirm, and takes delight in poking you with a stick.”  
“I know Spock doesn’t try to make me feel inferior, but I’m just so intimidated by him.”  
“He told me I was a highly disturbed individual with disordered thoughts.”  
“What?”  
“Consider the source. All Betazoids are crazy from a Vulcan perspective. Highly illogical.”  
“They also think Romulans are erratic and warlike. Which takes us back to not wanting logic and Surak’s teaching forced upon us.”  
“It can be forced upon Romulans, but Betazoids simply aren’t capable of it. We’re emotional beings. That’s our power,” T’Shara said, giving Donatra a kiss.  
“And I like it,” Donatra said, returning her embrace. “Will you give me a quickie before we have to join them for breakfast in the wardroom?”  
“With pleasure.”

“Good morning,” T’Shara greeted them, as she and Donatra took their seats in the wardroom. Ambassador Spock nodded in return, while the senators and subcommanders voiced their greetings.  
“You’re late,” Admiral Toreth pointed out. “Nor,” she pointed out, “Have the logs for last night been entered into the ship’s database.”  
“I will do that first thing after breakfast,” Donatra said.  
“I am curious to read it,” Toreth said, “Apparently we encountered an alien vessel.”  
“There was a garbage barge headed towards Romulus,” Donatra said, “So we redirected it. There is nothing to worry about.”  
“Indeed,” Toreth said, staring at her. Then she went back to eating her breakfast.  
Why does she hate me so much? Donatra wondered. I have never done anything to that woman. Where does the loathing come from?  
It’s not you, T’Shara told her telepathically. She’s still angry at me for disagreeing with her on several previous assignments, and being right. She’s still aggrieved from being proven wrong and you’re feeling the overflow. You’re also too young and too pretty for her to respect you. Don’t take it personally.  
I can’t help but take it personally. She’ll try to shame and demean me again today like she did yesterday.  
I’ll stay with you and field her off. She won’t attack you if she can try to get me. Just don’t keep thinking about my body and we’ll be fine, T’Shara smiled at Donatra, who smiled back mischievously.  
That’s my favorite thing to think about. You look fantastic, and sometimes it’s everything I can do to keep my hands to myself! I’d still rather stay in bed and have sex all day! I can’t wait until we get to Earth and have shore leave!  
T’Shara laughed, getting a curious look from Ambassador Spock. However, he let it pass and returned to eating.  
“Tell me, Ambassador,” Toreth asked, “What is the Federation’s policy on reunification?” Reunification was not to her liking at all. She supported political change on Romulus, but not what she saw as its weakening and loss of identity. Romulus was for Romulans, and while visitors might be welcome, they were also encouraged to go home again.  
“The official policy will be non-involvement,” Spock said. “The Prime Directive specifically dictates a policy of non-involvement with the internal affairs of other worlds.”  
“Romulus is not some primitive pre-contact world,” Toreth said, “And there is already a legacy of involvement. I can hardly be expected to believe that the Federation is going to sit back and forego an opportunity to gain control of an empire.”  
“That is the difference between an empire and a federation,” Spock answered.  
“Which still does not answer my original question,” Toreth said. “It appears to me that a small dissident movement has gained control, possibly involving a colorful spectrum of traitors.”  
“You cannot freeze time, Admiral,” Spock said. “The worlds we remember from our youth are not the ones these young people will be living in long after we are gone.”  
“All the more reason to preserve Romulan culture as it is,” Toreth said.  
He’s never going to talk her into it, T’Shara said telepathically to Donatra. I told you it would go this way. She doesn’t want logic thrust upon her any more than we do. This will become a fracture point politically, unless everyone can let go of all their control issues and stop forcing their ways on others. We don’t all have to like the same things. Let Vulcans be Vulcans and let Romulans be Romulans.  
I’ve already chosen my path, Donatra smiled to her. I know what I like! I’m learning telepathy from my pretty Betazoid girlfriend, and their tedious emotional suppression doesn’t interest me at all.  
I knew it wouldn’t, T’Shara agreed. Why would it? You’re learning more faster than they ever will.  
And I’m happy. I’d rather be happy than logical.  
“Ambassador Spock,” Subcommander Derik said, “Will you be giving another lesson on Surak’s teachings today?”  
“Yes, several. Since my current shipboard duties are few, there is sufficient time to devote to study.”  
“I’m looking forward to it,” Derik said. “Do you think that reunification is really possible?”  
“I believe it is,” Spock answered.  
Admiral Toreth looked concerned. Too many young Romulans had been interested in Spock’s underground movement already, when it was still illegal. Now they were everywhere. She looked over at Donatra, who was gazing lovingly at what was Toreth’s biggest personnel problem. Spock was influencing the masses, but T’Shara was cherry-picking the best and brightest young women, and corrupted them absolutely into her overly emotional, decadent lifestyle. Commander Donatra was already beyond recall. Even if she were separated from T’Shara, she’d already picked up too many of her ways. Nothing would give her more pleasure than dumping these people off on Earth and flying away.  
Subcommander Derik continued his questioning. “While I was reading last night…”  
T’Shara met Donatra’s eyes. I like what we were doing last night much better.  
Donatra smiled, feeling a tingle of excitement, as they remembered sharing the night together. I want to kiss you all over, and feel you sighing and moaning in my arms.  
I can see it in your eyes. Tonight, T’Shara smiled back at her, or maybe we can steal away for another quickie delight. Come to me…  
“Commander,” Spock said, “Will you and the counselor be joining us?”  
“What?” Donatra said, jolting back. Joining them for what? Having them around was the last thing she wanted while having mental sex with T’Shara, who looked like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her.  
“For our discussions on logic and emotional control,” Spock said. “I believe they may be of value to both of you.”  
“Thank you for the invitation, but I’m very happy where I’m at, and I have no desire to trade happiness for logic. We don’t all have to like the same things.”  
“Indeed. However you are still welcome to join us should you change your mind.”

The Enterprise cruised along through space, a party going on in ten-forward. The crew of the Enterprise was enjoying their time together, along with their guests Guinan and Lwaxana Troi. Will Riker and Deanna Troi presented Geordi with a birthday cake, while Captain Picard led the traditional Terran happy birthday song. Worf’s deep voice could be heard slightly out of tune with the others.  
“Happy birthday, Geordi,” Beverly said, “And here’s to many more.”  
“The older you get, the better you get,” Lwaxana said, “Right, Jean-Luc?”  
“Oh, yes, yes,” Picard agreed, edging away from her and trying to hide behind Beverly.  
“Thank you,” Geordi said, “This is great birthday surprise, getting everyone here together again. There’s nothing I’d rather do than be here with all you guys.”  
“Here, here,” Will Riker agreed, and led another toast. “To the best engineer I’ve ever worked with.”  
“Make a wish,” Deanna said.  
I wish I could transform B-4 into Data, Geordi wished. I guess a birthday wish is as useful as anything else we’ve tried so far, he thought as he blew out the candles and everyone clapped. B-4 stood there impassively, watching the celebration.  
“Granted!” Q declared. A jazz band appeared, with Q leading it. “Congratulations, Geordi LaForge!” Q exclaimed. “Because you made an unselfish wish, I’m going to grant it!”  
Everyone stared. “What?” Geordi said.  
“I don’t have a heart of stone,” Q said. “Data’s unselfish sacrifice touched us all, and so has your unceasing effort on behalf of that poor robot. Your wish is granted!”  
B-4 twitched, and suddenly acquired presence and poise. “Commander Data reporting for duty,” he said. Everyone stared in amazement.  
“Well, aren’t you going to thank me and give me a piece of cake?” Q said.  
“Thank you,” Geordi said.  
“You’re welcome, Mr. LaForge,” Q said, “And happy birthday!”  
“Thank you,” Data said to Q, and then addressed Geordi. “And I too now have a birthday. It is the same as yours, Geordi.”  
“That’s great, Data. It’s sure good to see you again.”  
“Q, are you truly doing a good deed?” Picard asked. “I find that difficult to accept.”  
“Ever the doubtful one,” Q said, helping himself to a piece of cake, and sitting down next to Lwaxana. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he said to her.  
“No, I don’t believe we’ve ever met,” Lwaxana flirted back. “You know I love generosity in a man.”  
“Oh, I’m very generous,” Q said, “Even when no one appreciates it, and Jean-Luc is so unappreciative of my assistance.”  
That’s not what I’d usually call it, Picard thought to himself.  
“Well we have that in common,” Lwaxana said, “He doesn’t appreciate anything I’ve done for him, either.”  
“It’s good to have you back, Data,” Geordi said.  
“It’s good to be back, Geordi. And it is good to see the rest of you, again, too.”  
“What is the price of this favor, Q?” Picard asked.  
“Take a break from skepticism and working and just accept a miracle, Jean-Luc,” Q said. “After all, I’ve helped you so often in the past.”  
A message came through from the bridge, “We’re picking up a distress call from an alien vessel,” an ensign said.  
“Speaking of working,” Jean-Luc Picard said, “Duty calls.”  
The crew beamed to the bridge, and took their accustomed spots.  
“On screen,” Picard said. The out-of-control Pakled ship appeared, tumbling haphazardly through space towards the Enterprise. “Hail them, and when they come within range, engage the tractor beam and stabilize the vessel.”  
“Aye, sir,” the duty ensign said.  
The interior of the Pakled vessel appeared on the forward viewscreen, listing to the side.  
“We need help,” the Pakled captain said.  
“Oh no, not these guys,” Geordi said. “Here’s a birthday present I don’t want.”  
“Stabilize the vessel,” Picard said, as the ensign engaged the tractor beam. Held still, the Pakled ship stopped listing. “How did you come to be freewheeling through space like that?”  
“We need help.”  
“We are helping you,” Will Riker pointed out, “Again. Why was your vessel adrift?”  
“Romulans said bad words to us.”  
“Yeah,” Geordi said, “I’ll bet they did. That also explains why the Pakleds are tumbling through space out of the Neutral Zone.”  
“Geordi, scan their ship. Find out what’s wrong with them this time.”  
“They’re Pakleds, sir, that’s what’s wrong with them,” Geordi said, and went to work with the controls.  
Picard returned to address the Pakled captain. “Can you tell us why the Romulans said bad words to you?”  
“We need help. Romulan women won’t mate with us.”  
Picard struggled to keep a straight face while the rest of the crew erupted into laughter. “No,” he said, “They’re certainly not going to help you out with that.”  
“Captain,” Geordi said, “All their systems except life support are nonfunctional, they were on a collision course with the Ferengi homeworld, and their ship is loaded down with old Cardassian warp cores and spent fuel. That thing’s a bomb.”  
“That raises more questions,” Picard mused. Then he addressed the Pakleds again, “Where did the warp engines come from?”  
“The Ferengi made us strong. Warp cores make our ship go.”  
“It sounds like the Ferengi cheated them and dumped a load of toxic waste,” Will Riker said.  
“Our ship is broken. We need help,” the Pakled captain said.  
“Still trying the same old tricks,” Riker said.  
“We know better this time around,” Deanna said. “Don’t let them have any access to our ship or personnel. They still think that they can entrap us through pity.”  
“Unfortunately, we are now in the position of having to do something about them,” Picard said. He addressed the Pakleds, “What were you doing in the Neutral Zone?”  
“Klingons are strong. They won’t help us.”  
“Did the Klingons push you towards Romulan space?” Picard asked.  
“They are strong. We are not strong. Our ship is broken. We need help.”  
“Sounds like a game of hot potato between the Klingons and the Romulans,” Riker said. “The Klingons aimed them towards Romulan space and the Romulans decided to shove them right back.”  
“Towards the source of the problem,” Picard thought aloud, “They’re sending the Ferengi back their garbage.”  
“So what do we do?” Riker asked.  
“The responsible thing,” Picard said. “We can’t let a ship full of toxic material remain adrift. It presents a danger to everyone on both sides of the Neutral Zone. We will have to delay our voyage to Earth long enough to tow the Pakled vessel to the recycle depot on Qualus Two.” He addressed the ensign, “Take the Pakled ship in tow and set a course for Qualus Two.”  
“We can’t just leave them once we get there,” Geordi said, “They’ll try to steal everything in sight.”  
“Good point Mr. Laforge,” Picard said. “I want you and Data to develop a protocol for dealing with these creatures that puts the safety of Federation personnel and technology first.”  
“With pleasure, sir,” Geordi said.  
“And prepare an invoice to send to the Ferengi homeworld,” Picard smiled and added, “Make sure our services are expensive.”

I like this much better than a class on logic, Donatra thought, lying in bed and playing with T’Shara’s hair.  
So do I.  
Oh, don’t stop now! Keep going!  
T’Shara laughed to herself. Then don’t distract me, darling. You have another twenty minutes before we’re due back on the bridge. Tonight it’s my turn.  
I’ll romance you properly, Donatra promised. Then we’ll make love all night long.  
That’s worth waiting for, T’Shara agreed. 

Admiral Toreth had the bridge. Several of the crew were studying logic with Ambassador Spock, while Commander Donatra and the counselor were absent. Toreth had a good idea where they were, and while she didn’t miss them she was nonetheless annoyed. If Donatra didn’t appear within the next few minutes she was prepared to report her for dereliction of duty. She was supposed to be commanding a warship, not writhing like a serpent in the bed of her mistress.  
“Admiral Toreth,” the helmsman said, “We’re receiving an incoming message from the Enterprise.”  
“Oh? Put it on screen.”  
Captain Picard appeared on the forward viewscreen. “Greetings, Commander,” he said, “This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise.”  
“This is Admiral Toreth, of the Imperial Romulan Warbird Valdore. To what do I owe the pleasure of this message?”  
“We have intercepted a Pakled vessel that was tumbling out of the Neutral Zone packed full of radioactive material. It appears that the Ferengi gifted them with a load of old Cardassian reactor cores and spent fuel. We have secured the ship and are towing it to Qualus Two in order to properly dispose of the toxic waste. However we have ascertained from the Pakleds that they had previously encountered a Romulan ship. Can you shed any light on this event?”  
Toreth was unprepared for his question, and didn’t like it. The only reference she had to any encounters was a vague reference to a garbage barge. “No, captain, but I might know who might. Please stand by for our transmission.”  
“Of course,” Captain Picard agreed, and disappeared off the viewscreen.  
Embarrassed and infuriated, Toreth said, “Helmsman, where is Commander Donatra?”  
“Commander Donatra is in her quarters.”  
“Put me through immediately!”  
“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, T’Shara, that was fantastic.”  
“We’re still on for tonight.”  
“Definitely. I’ll be thinking about it for the rest of the day…”  
Toreth’s angry voice came over the ship’s intercom system. “Commander Donatra!”  
“Yes, Admiral Toreth?”  
“Put your clothes on and come to the bridge immediately!”  
“Yes, Admiral.”  
“And bring that Betazoid witch with you. Toreth out.”  
“Wow, is she ever pissed,” T’Shara said, “I can feel it from here.”  
Donatra stood up and put her uniform. “I wonder what she’s angry about.” She handed T’Shara her coatdress.  
“I don’t know yet, but prepare for the scolding of a lifetime.”  
Upon entering the bridge, they could both feel the waves of fury emanating from Admiral Toreth. “Commander Donatra,” Toreth spat, “You are in gross dereliction of duty. Starfleet wants to know where a load of radioactive waste came from, and your log entry was unhelpful, to say the least!”  
“I beg your forgiveness, Admiral.”  
“It’s not her fault,” Admiral Toreth,” T’Shara said, “It’s mine.”  
“I’m well aware that it is your fault, you serpent! Now you will give me a full accounting of what happened!”  
Donatra and T’Shara told Toreth of their encounter with the Pakled vessel, and what had transpired. Then they confessed to what they had done with it.  
“Of all the irresponsible actions!” Toreth said. “Your negligence could have resulted in the entire Neutral Zone being covered in radiological waste! This is inexcusable! You are unfit for duty. Commander Donatra, I am relieving you of command. You are both relieved of your positions and all accompanying privileges, and I am issuing both of you a formal reprimand. Congratulations, Br’nith. You’ve cost yet another young woman her career with your irresponsible pranking!” She noticed Donatra’s surprised expression, and added, “You’ll have plenty of time to ask her all about it while you’re confined together in your quarters for the rest of the voyage. I will determine what other actions are appropriate after questioning the rest of the bridge crew present during the event.” Then she turned to the helmsman. “Hail the Enterprise.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Now,” Toreth said, “You will tell Starfleet exactly what you just told me, and take full responsibility for it!”  
“Yes, sir,” Donatra said.  
The image of Captain Picard appeared on the forward viewscreen. “Enterprise here.” Seeing Donatra he greeted her warmly, although he did notice that she was visibly unhappy. He was equally unhappy to see T’Shara standing next to her, and suspected already that she had a hand in shooting the Pakleds across the Neutral Zone, especially since the destination was the Ferengi homeworld. “Greetings, Commander Donatra. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”  
“Likewise, Captain. This is T’Shara Br’nith.”  
“We know each other.”  
“Hello, Jean-Luc,” T’Shara smiled, “Kermit says hello.”  
“Tell him what you did,” Admiral Toreth interrupted, “With no charm spells.”  
T’Shara gave Toreth an unappreciative stare, while Donatra told Captain Picard about their encounter with the Pakleds. “The Klingons did it first,” she added.  
“We have already sent a subspace transmission to the Klingon homeworld. They will take whatever disciplinary actions they feel are appropriate when the vessel involved is located. They are taking this incident very seriously, as are we. I’m sure upon reflection you realize the potential consequences of your actions were not worth whatever humor value they may have had at the time.”  
“Yes, Captain.”  
“We are taking the Pakled vessel to Qualus Two for proper disposal of the radioactive material.”  
“Where someone will feel sorry for them and fix their crappy craft!” T’Shara said. “Those manipulative tards will get what they were after to begin with while the Ferengi and the Cardassians are completely off the hook! You’re punishing all the wrong people!”  
“On the contrary,” Captain Picard said, “Our investigation into this matter is only just beginning, and we will get to the bottom of it.”  
“As is ours, Captain,” Toreth said, “I will be filing a formal report with the Imperial Romulan Star Command after this transmission. I hope you will continue to keep us updated on your findings.”  
“Likewise, Admiral. I look forward to speaking with you again.”  
“Captain.”  
“Picard out.” Then the viewscreen went dark, and returned to the view of space.  
“And so it begins,” Toreth said. “Thanks to your foolish behavior. You, Br’nith, would have done far better to remain silent than to have made that outburst. But if Starfleet wants to prosecute you for this or other charges, I won’t stand in their way. In the meantime, you will both be confined to quarters, with the exception of attending Ambassador Spock’s logic classes.” She smiled as she noticed the looks of dismay on their faces. “Good,” she said to T’Shara, “It will be a form of torture for you, and an exorcism of sorts for you,” she said to Donatra. “Now, report to your quarters and remain there. Don’t make me post a security guard to supervise you. Dismissed.” Toreth smiled as the guards led them away.  
Two Romulan soldiers escorted T’Shara and Donatra back to their quarters, and locked them in. Once inside, safe from the scrutiny of Admiral Toreth, Donatra sat down on the bed and cried.  
T’Shara knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry, Donatra. I am truly sorry.”  
“What did she mean by ‘yet another young woman’ T’Shara? What have you done? And use words, don’t put any pictures or feelings into my head!”  
“I won’t attempt to manipulate you. Just previous girlfriends, that’s all.”  
“How many?”  
“My reputation is somewhat deserved.”  
“I want a number!”  
“Five girlfriends on Romulus.”  
“That Toreth knows about! How many girlfriends throughout the Federation?”  
“Too many.”  
“A number!”  
“Seventeen.”  
Donatra burst into tears again.  
“You’re going to like Earth women. And they’ll give you a hero’s welcome.”  
“As apparently do you,” Donatra cried.  
“Seven girlfriends on Earth, the other ten are on Betazed. You’ll like Betazoid women, too, once you learn how to control your telepathic powers and not accidentally trip into someone else’s head uninvited. They have strict rules about that.”  
“Every one of which you’ve probably broken, which is why you’re not there now.”  
“No, I’m no violator. Those were girlfriends from my youth, before I left for Starfleet Academy with my cousin Deanna and flunked out.”  
“Oh God, was she a girlfriend too?”  
“No! Deanna is my cousin and my best friend. I’m not that much of a pervert! Although I think Will Riker might have been down with that, Deanna definitely is not. She’s as moral and ethical as they come.”  
“A trait the two of you don’t share. And I suppose you used and ruined every previous girlfriend the same way you used and have now ruined me! Lies and seduction. Tell her whatever she wants to hear.”  
“I’m not that wretched of a person, Donatra. I didn’t use any of them. I just screw things up at the worst possible time.”  
“That’s an excuse, and a poor one.”  
“I’m not perfect. I wreck things. A lot.”  
“Why am I still listening to you? You are a serpent, and I can barely stand the sight of you!”  
“Tell me what you want me to do. I can’t change the past. I’ll take responsibility for this latest disaster. I’ll tell them I was controlling you.”  
“Were you?”  
“Not consciously. I never set out to control or manipulate you. But we were feeling the same thing the other night on the bridge. We were having too much fun and it got out of control.”  
“How can I possibly believe you?”  
“There’s no answer I can give you that won’t sound like a lie.”  
“I love you but I can’t trust you.”  
“There you’re wrong. I love you and you can trust me with that. You just can’t trust me with a warship.”  
“Leave me alone. I don’t want to listen to you!”  
T’Shara stood up and left the bedroom, taking her hurt feelings with her. She sat down in the other room, out of Donatra’s sight. She closed her eyes, and prepared to meditate. Her center was fluctuating, and she couldn’t think clearly. Too many old wounds were opening up and doubt flowed through her. Alone again, the way she had always really been. Loneliness was another feeling to pick up off the floor and organize, along with shame and disappointment. She should probably be preparing some sort of defense for whatever accusations and crimes were going to be leveled at her, but she couldn’t think critically or tactically yet. Rejection was still too fresh, like a screaming baby in her arms. She had to soothe it before she could act with any sort of common sense. She could also feel Donatra struggling with her feelings of betrayal and wounded pride in the other room, and she left her to them. They were already too enmeshed and cross-threaded for T’Shara to help her without being invited back. She’d been told to leave, so she withdrew completely into herself, keeping up only a rudimentary guard so that if anything approached the ship or Donatra gave into anger and decided to attack, she would know. The rest of her consciousness sank into invisible weeping.  
Donatra felt T’Shara’s presence withdraw. Alone except for a treacherous telepath in the other room, and facing the imminent end of her career, she cried into the pillow. How could I have been so foolish, she wondered. Everyone warned me about her, why didn’t I listen? They all knew what she was, and had seen her do this to how many other women? Shame and embarrassment flushed her cheeks and ears. This would be impossible to live down, assuming she still had enough freedom to be embarrassed with. She wondered about the others. Of course they would have been beautiful, T’Shara would have chosen them for that. Did she tell all of them that she loved them? Share the same intimacy? Make love with the same intensity and tell the same lies? Where were they now? Donatra pulled a blanket up over her head. Just in case someone was watching, she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. It was prudent to assume that there was always someone watching. This was a Romulan warbird, spying and surveillance were to be expected. She’d already taken all the counter surveillance measures she knew, so they couldn’t watch her have sex with T’Shara. If anyone was watching, they’d have those encounters recorded, and someday they might be used against her. She would be blackmailed sometime in the distant future. It had been a huge mistake to bring a lover aboard and be so open about it, to show her affection so freely. I’ve been an idiot, she wept. Now there’s nothing left but a ruined career and a broken heart to show for it. For a woman who manipulated her and was known for having done it before to others. I’m not even special to her, just another pretty face in a long history of them. A profound sense of loss came over her while tears of embarrassment, shame and regret flowed freely. All that, and she still wanted to cry on T’Shara’s shoulder. 

Captain Picard gathered his senior staff in the ready room, including Data, whom everyone was happy to have restored to them, even if it was a gift from Q. “We should reach Qualus Two in under 48 hours,” he said, “And they’re waiting for us. Thank you, Mr. LaForge, for the written protocol. I sent it to them, and a security detail is in place to prevent any unauthorized equipment from disappearing. However, there is another aspect to this I would like to discuss. Commander Donatra’s misstep was not hers alone. I believe she was acting under the influence of Counselor T’Shara Br’nith.”  
“Oh no,” Deanna said. “What has she done this time?”  
“According to Admiral Toreth, they’re in a relationship of a personal nature. I wouldn’t put it past T’Shara to have manipulated Commander Donatra into aiming the Pakled vessel full of radioactive waste straight at the Ferengi homeworld.”  
“That does sound like something she would do,” Deanna agreed. “Is there any way we can talk to her?”  
“So far the Romulans have been cooperative. Decide what you want to say, and assume that any and all communication will be monitored. Keep it brief. The Cardassians sent us a signed invoice clearly outlining the terms, conditions, and payment rendered to the Ferengi for disposal of the old warp cores. They want no further involvement. For their part, the Ferengi are denying ever meeting the Pakleds. However, the Cardassian receipt was also signed and dated by several Ferengi, so we do have the names of the traders and the designation of the transport vessel.”  
“If there are any codes or registration numbers on those old warp cores we can prove that they’re the same ones by referencing the Cardassian receipt,” Geordi said. “We can make the Ferengi accountable for violating the terms of their original agreement and for illegally dumping toxic waste.”  
“In the meantime, the Klingons have provided no further insight as to who the Pakleds may have encountered. They say that without a name or a ship number, they have nothing to go on. Any number of vessels may have been in the area.”  
“I don’t suppose the Pakleds know who they talked to?” Will asked.  
“Only a vague description. Mostly they repeat themselves about the Klingons being strong. Talking to them is largely useless. They keep using the same ruse to try to ensnare someone into coming aboard their vessel, in the mistaken assumption that they can gain something.”  
“Everyone already has helped them, to their own detriment,” Geordi said, “And now they really will get most of what they want. There’s enough old junk at Qualus Two to completely fix up that ship of theirs.”  
“We’re not going to give them any upgrades,” Picard said. “We’re also going to take things away, starting with that old Romulan cloaking device they stole. We’re not about to let them have the ability to sneak up on anyone. They’re going to get what they need, not what they want.”  
“Agreed,” Geordi said. “We should fix their vessel for durability, so even they can’t break it, and then they won’t have any good excuses to lure people in. We should also issue a warning to everyone about what they do.”  
“Good idea. You and Commander Data draw up a design plan, and send it to Qualus Two. They can have everything ready before we get there, and minimize the time we have to waste on the Pakleds. After that, we can resume our journey back to Earth. And thank you, everyone, for keeping Mrs. Troi distracted. If no one has anything else, this meeting is adjourned.”

The Pakleds stood around grinning at each other.  
“We are smart,” they agreed.  
“We are strong!”  
“We will have weapons!”  
“Our ship will go fast!”  
“We will be powerful!”  
“Romulan women will mate with us!”  
They cheered, grinned, and did a happy dance.

Admiral Toreth smiled to herself as she watched the time. Less than twenty minutes until Ambassador Spock’s next meeting on Surak’s teachings, and she knew exactly who she was going to force to attend. Unless of course, Donatra had already killed T’Shara in a fit of jealous rage, which was fine with Toreth as well. That was why she had them locked up together. Once Donatra forced the truth from T’Shara, the Betazoid wouldn’t find it so congenial or easy to control her minion. She resolved to keep them sequestered together until they reached Earth, and then, if T’Shara survived the journey, leave her there. She would be Starfleet’s problem, and Toreth would be free of her biggest bad asset. Meanwhile, Donatra would have learned a valuable lesson about getting involved with telepaths. If she regained her commission, she would always be vulnerable to this incident being thrown back at her, and would be easier to control because of it. Toreth wasn’t sure about Donatra’s loyalty to Romulus. Throwing herself into an unwise affair with T’Shara wasn’t the most worrying of her poor decisions. Allying herself with Shinzon against Romulus worried Toreth far more. Siding against him with Picard had also been a very chancy decision. If Shinzon had won, he would have made an example of her, and she would have died a painful, and probably public death. Only fate had saved her. She was young, and badly in need of seasoning. If she came to her senses, she might be worth something. Otherwise, she was an unguided missile looking for a place to crash. The Federation was a better place for that explosion than the Valdore, if they would take her, and Toreth was almost certain that they would. She looked at the clock and tapped her fingers together. Time for logic class. She called the guards. “Meet me with four men outside the former commander’s quarters.”  
“Yes sir.”  
There was no knowing what antics T’Shara might pull, but with four guards along, they should have ample strength to control her, whatever weeping and theatrics she might employ to avoid sitting through Spock’s lecture. She rang the doorbell. There was no answer, so she entered the code and walked in. The Betazoid was sitting there in the meeting area, motionless as a stone with her eyes closed. “Wake her,” Toreth told the guards. “Donatra? Where are you?”  
Donatra heard the doorbell, and wiped her eyes. It would not do at all for them to see her crying. She got up out of bed, and checked her appearance. She smoothed her disheveled hair and reapplied her lipstick while listening to the guards with T’Shara.  
“Wake up,” they told her. When she didn’t move, they lifted her out of the chair and held her upright. On Toreth’s command, they shook her until she came out of her meditative trance.  
Toreth entered the bedroom. She looked at Donatra, who had obviously been crying, and said, “Ready to trade happiness for logic?”  
“Give me a minute to fix my hair.”  
“Indeed,” Toreth smiled, “Only a minute. It will not do to be late.” She left Donatra alone to compose herself while she helped the guards with T’Shara. “Will you walk yourself or shall we drag you?”  
“I think you’re perverting the intent of these meetings.”  
“What an interesting choice of words, counselor. By the standards of many worlds, your personal conduct would rate imprisonment or execution.”  
“That’s why I avoid primitive places with such customs.”  
Donatra overheard the conversation, as perhaps she was meant to, and wondered if the threat applied to her, too. There was no possibility of escape from this room, so she stepped into the meeting room, her tears gone, replaced with a sensation of dread.  
“I see you’re both ready. Come along.” Toreth and the guards accompanied the prisoners to the meeting room. Donatra found the walk excruciating, as crew members pretended not to notice her disgrace, and looked the other way. A prisoner was lower than a slave, and Donatra felt the excoriating sensation of shame and dishonor. Death would have been better than dishonor, and she felt it acutely.  
“We will return for you after the meeting. Behave yourselves,” Toreth said, and motioned for them to go through the door.  
Donatra stepped through, T’Shara behind her. Spock looked up from his tablet as they took their seats among a small group of young crew members.  
“Welcome,” he said. “Today we are studying the practical applications of pure logic.”  
Of course we are, T’Shara thought, the most boring topic possible. Not even any politics to distract her from the absolute boredom. Donatra was angry at her, so there would be no chance of touching her mind for jokes, distractions, or mental sex. Worse, she was writhing inside with the twin sensations of embarrassment and dishonor, which fueled her anger into a toxic emotional brew that hung around her. T’Shara could feel her pain, but didn’t share it. There were far worse things than wounded pride.  
“Logic dictates that we concentrate upon that which is most pertinent to the situation,” Spock began. “To discern that which is important from that which is extraneous, and a distraction. Focusing the mind…”  
Donatra tried to pay attention, in case there should be a quiz afterward, but T’Shara lost interest quickly. Instead, she remembered a concert long ago. Soft music played in her head, and she remembered the sights and smells of the crowd and the performers. She was there with Tani, a beautiful blond girl from Earth whose lips always tasted like mint. The perfume that she wore smelled like flowers mixed with cinnamon, and lingered on long after she’d gone. Then she’d run off with another human, a tall bearded man. T’Shara had never understood the attraction, or even remember the man’s name.  
“The emotional state is irrelevant,” Spock said, “Emotions cloud judgment. Correct analysis of a situation is impossible when the mind is cluttered with unnecessary emotional input.”  
Bisexual women will always leave you for a man, T’Shara thought. She thought back to Chelle, her first real lover, who’d told her that. She wondered why, although it had seemed to work out that way, more often than not. Now she was prepared for it, and wasn’t surprised any more when it happened. She was always hurt, but it was a pain she’d come to anticipate. The rooms of her mind were populated with such ice water ghosts. They faded, and grew colder with time, but they always remained. The faces and the names stayed with her. She wondered if they remembered her. People said she couldn’t be trusted, but they were inconstant too. There had never been anyone but Deanna that she had ever really trusted, and that was because she was family. Alone. Loneliness was a permanent condition. She watched the young crewmen and women as Spock lectured. They seemed to pay attention, but no one here interested her. They were plain in every way. None of their thoughts stood out, their emotions were flat, and there was no spark that warmed her interest. Beside her Donatra was impassive, suppressing her growing rage and ignoring her, preparing to take her place with the other ghosts in her mind. No more warmth there, no more whispers of love. It would be inappropriate to reach out and touch her in any way. The lecture seemed to go on forever, and T’Shara shifted repeatedly in her seat. The meeting went on so long it seemed to her that time was flowing backward. When Spock opened up the floor for questions, at least there was something to distract her from the loneliness and the uncomfortable chair. But she already knew better than to ask Toreth to let her bring a cushion. Finally, it was over. She followed Donatra out into the hallway, where Toreth and the guards were waiting.  
“Well, how was it?” Toreth asked with a smile.  
“A class on logic,” Donatra answered, unwilling to let Toreth see any evidence of inner turmoil. Underneath, she seethed and wanted to scream or die of embarrassment.  
“And you?” Toreth asked T’Shara.  
“Lonely.” Toreth looked surprised by her answer, wondering how anyone could be lonely after having dozens of love affairs. The guards were concentrating on their jobs, watching the prisoners for any attempts to escape, which brought T’Shara out of her cold torpor as they walked back to their quarters, as did Donatra’s acute embarrassment at being treated like a prisoner on her own ship. She avoided everyone’s eyes as they walked, but the shame was excruciating. The guards locked them back in their quarters.  
“Lonely, are you?” Donatra said. “I’m sure you are, with no new victims to cast around for, and trapped in here with your last one.”  
“Toreth was surprised you hadn’t already killed me, and that I didn’t scream from boredom during the lecture. And you’re not a victim, whatever you may tell yourself.”  
“I picked up your vibrations. You spent the entire lecture remembering past girlfriends! I’m not sure I shouldn’t kill you!”  
“I had to concentrate on something to avoid death by boredom. And I refrained from intruding on your thoughts.”  
“How noble of you. The iciness in that room wasn’t from logic or boredom, it was from you.”  
“What do you want me to do? I’m not going to pick the answer out of your head. That will only make you angrier, and the anger hangs off you like a cloak.”  
“Of course I’m angry at you! I’m a prisoner on my own ship, and so ashamed I could die! I’ve been judged unfit to command, and humiliated because of it! Everyone on the ship must know by now! I’m sure Star Command does, and soon the entire fleet will be laughing at me! Discommendation is worse than death! My mnhei’sahe is gone, and I’m still alive to endure it. I feel like strangling you!”  
“I know, I can feel that. Your anger might be justified, but the hatred is not.”  
“Hate is the opposite of love, and you used me! Love turns to hate when you use people! No wonder women leave you, when they finally figure out what you are!”  
“There’s no need for what we’re going through. What you are is embarrassed, and cherishing your own wounded pride. We did something stupid, and got caught. That’s all it really is.”  
“How dare you!”  
“I never should have suggested that we fling that garbage barge back. Just because the Klingons got away with it, didn’t mean we would. But in the heat of the moment, it was funny. We should have stopped and reported it, but we didn’t.”  
“I’m a prisoner on my own ship, because of you! Yes, I’m embarrassed, but not because we did something wrong, but because now I’m permanently associated with you! We’re lower than slaves! The shame and dishonor of this is permanent. Have you no pride or honor? How are you utterly immune to the complete shame and humiliation?”  
“This too shall pass.”  
“No, it won’t! Maybe you’re used to dragging around in dishonor and disgrace with a shameful reputation, but I’m not! They’ll never give me another warship to command as long as I live! I’m ruined, and you’ll just wander off and find another woman to manipulate into doing your bidding!”  
“That’s unfair. I’m here because I want to be with you. No other reason.”  
“You’re lying and manipulating me again!”  
“I’ll sit through the tirade, but if you hit me, it’s over. You’ve already threatened to kill me twice. Why would I want that? Get a hold of yourself.”  
“So what do you suggest we do?”  
“Finally. Now sit down and let’s come up with a plan.”

Old men passed away, and younger men, eager to prove themselves in battle had taken their place. The Klingon High Command was in an uproar, and Martok had a headache. As usual, the Council was in disagreement. “What do they want now?”  
“The Federation wants to know who flung a ship of radioactive waste at Romulus,” Advisor Khalvuk said.  
“Why do they care who shot radioactive waste at Romulus?” Martok said, “That’s where poison comes from.”  
“Because Captain Picard of the Enterprise is currently stuck with it, and he’s not happy about it,” Khalvuk answered.  
Another Klingon interrupted, “If the Federation is our ally, why are they collaborating with our enemies?”  
A young Klingon shouted, “If they want a war, let’s give them one.”  
Several cheers of assent went up. Others were doubtful or reflective. Young Jozow Perg said, “It would seem the Federation wants a permanent alliance with the Romulans.”  
“Talk, talk, talk. The Federation does nothing but talk.”  
Thon Doygos spoke up, ignoring the obvious distaste of the others, “Our blood enemy is weak and disorganized. We should attack the Romulans now before they reorganize or find any allies. Why should the Romulans attack the Federation when they can conquer it with endless talking? They will invite themselves in under the guise of friendship, and by the time the Federation realizes they are overrun, it will be too late to get them out, and the Romulans will be in control of the Federation.”  
“Yes! We attack now!”  
Doygos continued, “We should assemble the fleet, and under cover we attack Romulus. First we will seize their assets. All the heavy manufacturing and ammunitions depots should be destroyed or commandeered immediately. Once the homeworld is subdued, we can pick off their warbirds at our leisure. They won’t have the ability to rearm or refuel.”  
They considered his words. Doygos was a brilliant tactician, but he was not above sending them all to Romulus to die and then recouping his losses alone as the Emperor of the Klingon Empire. Everyone knew there had to be more to that plan.  
“Would you be coming with us, or remaining behind?”  
“I will do what I do best, and preplan the attack, setting traps and destroying their communications.”  
“I knew it! What you do best is cringing behind, stealing women and treasure!”  
“Don’t be any stupider than you can help. Take the treasure first. The women will still be there but the gold will be gone.”  
“Coward! A warrior rushes forward into battle, he does not lurk and steal! Nor does he shame and dishonor himself with Romulan women!”  
An old Klingon, Adol K’tardurn, spoke up, “Your greed, lust, and cowardice shame us all!”  
“Why do we let him live?” another older Klingon, Bahotha Qurgho, wondered.  
“Because you need me, if you want to win. Be a warrior all you want. I’m the tactician.”  
Bahotha answered, “We should give you back your honor by killing you before you shame and dishonor all of us.”  
Adol predicted, “I can tell you what will happen otherwise. He will do something unforgiveable in the eyes of the Federation, and they’ll all come screaming at us for vengeance in a way you’re not used to humans behaving. If the Romulans are with them, we will be defeated, and then live indebted to the Federation for their forbearance with the Romulans standing over us gloating. I agree with Bahotha. Kill Doygos.”  
“Enough!” Martok said. “Doygos is a deviant, dishonorable coward who is inexplicably proud of his shameful actions. We already know this. What we do not know is the name of the commander who aimed the ship of spent warp coils at Romulus. What else we do not know is whether or not there will be a Romulan alliance with the Federation. We can make no battle plans without information. Get accurate information. Then we will plan a battle. Not before.”  
D’Darkird growled, “You’re weak, old man.”  
“Think harder, D’Darkird,” Martok said, “Or is that head of yours only good for a battering ram? The minute I’m dead, that dishonorable freak Doygos will own you all. You want to go to war and die over a pile of garbage? You may value your life so low, but we only have so many warbirds. Pick something better!”  
“Without the Romulans, who are we going to fight?” Jozow asked. “We have to fight somebody.”  
“We’re still going to fight the Romulans, what we need to know is what side the Federation is going to be on! Was that plain enough for you, Jozow?” Then Martok looked around. “Return to me when you have real information. This meeting is over.”  
After the meeting Jozow, D’Darkird, and Doygos met together secretly. “Those old men talk, talk, and talk like Federation ambassadors. They’re old and weak, and want nothing but the comforts of home and a warm fireside. They have forgotten glory and ambition. I have a plan that will provide you a path to war and greatness.”  
“This is what we want to hear,” D’Darkird said, “Not old men croaking.”  
“Then ready your ships, and prepare for glory.”

“Just don’t break my heart.”  
“I won’t break your heart,” T’Shara said, and kissed Donatra’s cheek.  
“I missed us.”  
“So did I.”  
Donatra picked up the tablet. “Out of Plans A, B, C, and D, I think I’m most comfortable with Plan A, and I find Plan C both exciting and intimidating, but I think I’ll get into trouble with Plan B on Betazed. I can’t control when and how my telepathic abilities work when you’re not with me.”  
“Which would leave us living alone in the woods while you practice on animals. That’s not a bad thing, really. You’ll learn faster with animals. They’re very direct.”  
“How can you be sure your aunt will help us?”  
“She will. If you think I influence people telepathically, you haven’t seen anything yet,” T’Shara laughed.  
“But what is this, Plan F?”  
“The F stands for Fail. That’s if all previous plans suddenly fail, and everything else goes horribly wrong. It’s always good to have a Plan F for every situation. Since you’re going to stay with me, I want you to help me develop a new Plan F.”  
“Your current Plan F is to use the transporter on your ship and escape.”  
“It works unless someone erects a shield around my ship, or knocks me out. The Ferengi did both. So far Toreth has done neither.”  
“How can you be sure she hasn’t shielded it?”  
“Because I can still access it, and Toreth is fine with me ejecting myself into space.”  
“I see,” Donatra laughed. “Can you beam me out with you?”  
“Easily. But can you do it if I get knocked out?”  
“No, I can’t.”  
“So there’s a weak point in that plan. Then there’s unforeseen possibilities. What else could possibly go wrong?”  
“Theoretically, an infinite number of things.”  
“That’s what Plan F is all about. The first four plans are things we would be very, mostly, or passably happy with. Those are what we hope for. Plan F is disaster control.”  
“So how many doomsday scenarios do you want?”  
“As many as you can give me that I haven’t already thought of myself.”  
“Well, first, is there a way you can give me access to your ship in the event that you are somehow incapacitated?”  
“We might be able to modify a com device for distance voice control, but we’d have to have to work on a smooth transfer, and practice doing it before we were in distress.”  
“Good. That patches one hole in our disaster planning. So what kind of disasters are we planning for?”  
“Let’s start with the most likely ones. We can’t do anything about the Q or any other ultra-powerful beings, but we can plan for Klingons, Cardassians, Ferengi, and manipulative tards who want to mate with us.”  
Donatra laughed, “They certainly caused a lot of trouble, didn’t they?”  
“Certainly more than they understand,” T’Shara said.  
“What about more intelligent manipulators? Like Toreth?”  
“We just have to anticipate what she would want, by assuming she will always act in her own best interests. People usually continue to do what they’ve done in the past, and she always makes rational decisions. She won’t do anything stupid unless the orders come from above her, and even then she’ll try to mitigate her own disaster control, and act in the best interests of the crew and ship. She’s very predictable that way. Telepathy might be necessary if she’s acting under orders that we would otherwise have no knowledge of.”  
“Isn’t that mind-probing?”  
“If those orders are to do me harm, I would consider it self-defense. There is also sensing emotions, which don’t require any probing, and which shouldn’t cause you any ethical conflicts. With practice, you’ll be able to pick up on when someone is lying, and how to proceed.”  
“I see,” Donatra smiled, and put her hand on T’Shara’s knee, “What about someone who plays at that same level? Perhaps some Betazoid beauty who thinks you look attractive?” She slowly moved her hand up T’Shara’s thigh. “What if she has her sights set on you?”  
“I would let her down gently and tell that I was already spoken for,” T’Shara said as leaned in for a kiss, putting her arms around Donatra.  
“What if she were adamant and persisted?” she asked as she embraced T’Shara, “And wouldn’t take no for an answer?”  
“If she truly won’t take no for an answer then she would be considered a violator and then I might need you to save me,” T’Shara laughed, “Although such people are not as common as you seem to assume.”  
“I’m glad to hear that, since she would be a disaster in my view,” Donatra said, kissing her, “But one I would gladly save you from.”  
“You can start now. I think you still owe me that night of delights you promised me earlier.”  
“I do, don’t I,” she said, and started unfastening the buttons hidden beneath the fur edging on her coatdress. “I’ll give you a massage and go from there.” She slipped the coatdress off T’Shara’s shoulders, but felt her hesitation. “What is it?”  
“Toreth is on her way. It’s time for another logic class.”  
“What?”  
The doorbell announced their visitor.  
“Seriously?” Donatra said, glancing at the unwelcome intrusion at the door.  
“But I’ll be looking forward to that massage the entire time.”  
“Enter,” Donatra said, as T’Shara pulled her coatdress back up.  
Toreth and the guards entered. “Well, I see you are as yet unaffected by logic and self-control,” she said. “No worries, there are another several days’ worth of classes for you to attend.”  
“I’m overflowing with joy and anticipation,” Donatra said flatly, taking pleasure in Toreth’s sour expression.  
“Indeed. Guards, accompany them to the meeting and see that they remain there.”  
Spock looked up as the half Betazoid and the former commander of the vessel entered the room and took their seats. Their lack of enthusiasm and interest throughout the meeting was noticeable. After his students had departed he spoke privately with Admiral Toreth. “I do not believe the use of my classes as a punishment is appropriate.”  
Toreth smiled, “I do, Ambassador, and in this case I think the punishment wholly fits the crime. The former commander of this vessel displayed an utter lack of judgment and acted in an overly emotional, irresponsible manner. I think such a person is in desperate need of reason and logic.”  
“What is Counselor Br’nith to gain?”  
Who cares, Toreth thought, the point is to make her suffer and not have any fun. Sentencing her to life on Vulcan would be a fitting punishment, surrounded by people oblivious to her seductive antics, and pretty young Vulcan girls who would be immune to her charm spells. But that was not what she said to the Ambassador. “The counselor is in even more dire need of emotional control than anyone else on this ship. Even if she is wholly incapable of logic, an understanding of the cause and effect of her own actions would be benefit enough.”  
“Is that not the purpose of punishment?”  
“Perhaps if they choose to see it that way. But I still think it is worth the effort.”  
“Indeed.”  
Spock stared at her, and Toreth wondered what he was thinking. Vulcan logic and silences were real conversation stoppers, as far as she was concerned. “If there is nothing else, Ambassador, I have other duties to attend to.”  
“Of course, Admiral.” Then he nodded respectfully and took his leave of her.  
Toreth watched him go. The silence and arrogance of Vulcans had always annoyed her. If Spock felt like he was being punished as well by having T’Shara and Donatra around, so much the better. Feel my pain, she thought.  
Far from feeling her pain, Spock was pondering ways to take the sting out of what was not meant to be a punishment, but a philosophy. He was also intrigued by the workings of the Betazoid mind. If Counselor Br’nith would be amenable to it, a Betazoid-Vulcan mind meld could be fascinating. 

Counselor Br’nith had not even considered it, and threw her arms around Donatra. “Free of them for twelve whole hours!” she exclaimed.  
“What a relief! I felt your vibrations, but I couldn’t concentrate on you or the lecture with all those serious faces staring at me. I was afraid I would laugh or smile at an inappropriate moment and look crazy.”  
“That’s why I stopped. It won’t do for them to be trying to throw both of us in crazy jail. At least you should be on your best behavior and judged sane. But for now, we’re rid of them!”  
“And I still owe you a night of delights. All through the lecture I was thinking about it, whenever I could sneak a stray enjoyable thought in without it being noticed.” She kissed T’Shara, and then said, “First let’s have dinner and a drink. What would you like?”  
“Can we still get any real wine from the replicator, or will it only give us disappointing, nonalcoholic substitutes?”  
“Let’s find out.”  
“Two glasses of real Avarian white wine,” Donatra said.  
“That selection is not available,” the computer answered, “Would you like a taste-compatible substitute?”  
Donatra looked at T’Shara, “It seems Toreth has thought of everything. Would you like a substitute?”  
“Disappointing, but I suppose we’ll take what we can get.”  
The replicator produced two glasses of what looked like wine. They tasted it. “Less like wine and more like fruit juice,” Donatra decided. “I wish I had a Romulan ale right now.”  
“I have some stashed on my ship. Would you like me to get it?”  
“No, it’s too risky. If she took away our alcohol privileges, she probably also put a monitor on us. If you beamed out, she’d know, and then matters would be worse.”  
“You’re probably right. We will just have to pretend we’re drinking real wine. At least we don’t have to pretend the food is real!”  
Donatra noticed something on the computer. “There’s a transmitted message here for you from Starfleet.” She paused, “Someone has already opened it.”  
“I’m sure Toreth already saw it,” T’Shara said. “I suppose I should.” To her surprise, it was a message from Deanna Troi. “Good news, I hope,” she said.  
“I can tell you’re related,” Donatra said, “She looks just like you except human.”  
“Her husband tells it the other way. He says I look just like her except a Romulan.” T’Shara paused, picking up on recognition. “You’ve met before?”  
“Yes, after Shinzon died, she and her husband spent several weeks on Romulus as ambassadors. I met her briefly, during a meeting with Captain Picard.”  
“What did you think?”  
“I didn’t get to spend much time with her, and she didn’t say much. Since they were there in an official capacity, after Captain Picard left I was shown the door by the guards very shortly thereafter.”  
“Why?”  
“Military commanders receive orders from the Senate, they don’t make policy or sit in on conferences unless summoned. Since my presence was not requested, I stayed away.”  
“More’s the pity, but I suppose if you’re not invited, the Senate is a place to stay away from.”  
Deanna’s message was short and sweet, containing only well wishes and a requested confirmation that they would be meeting again soon on Earth. It contained a warning that Lwaxana Troi would be there as well. T’Shara laughed.  
“A warning?”  
“She invites herself aboard the Enterprise to chase Captain Picard around. He’s probably hiding out in Engineering somewhere,” T’Shara laughed. “Meanwhile, she’ll have nothing to do but embarrass Deanna. That’s why she warned me ahead of time. She calls us by our childhood nicknames out in front of everyone, and is completely fearless about the things she says.”  
“I have to see this.”  
“You’ll hardly be able to avoid it.”  
“Are you going to answer the message?”  
“Oh yes. And knowing Toreth is going to read it, I’ll only tell her that I’m with you and how happy we are.”

“Where are we going?” Jozow asked.  
“Exactly where we’re needed,” Doygos said, “We’re going to help a friend and hinder an enemy, triggering a war in the process.”  
“How do we do that?”  
“By striking at the right place at the right time. I tracked down every commander in the fleet who could have possibly been near the Neutral Zone at the time the ship full of old warp cores was shoved toward Romulus, and downloaded their commander’s logs from the High Council’s secret database…”  
“Uh, isn’t that against the rules?”  
“Shut up and listen! I found Commander W’shehogh’s log contained a brief mention of encountering an alien vessel filled with idiots. Since only idiots would be floating through the Neutral Zone with a cargo full of old warp cores, I knew that had to be it. Then I calculated where they had to have been, where the other ship was, and where the Romulan ship must have been in order to have pushed it back to where the Enterprise could have intercepted it. Now I know the trajectory of a cloaked Romulan ship.”  
“Huh?”  
“It came from Romulus. The Enterprise was headed towards Earth. As cozy as the Federation and the Romulans might want to get, I’m betting some dignitaries are headed for Earth for a nice lengthy meeting, with lots and lots of talking and getting nothing done. So we intercept the ship, find out everything we want to know from them, take whatever we want, and then destroy all the evidence, telling no one we were ever there. The Romulans will think Starfleet destroyed the vessel, and Starfleet will think the Romulans are lying.”  
“Oh. So how do we get greatness?”  
“By starting up the war again between the Federation and the Romulans! Once the Romulans have no allies, we attack them.”  
“Oh! Now I understand, I think.”  
“Your job isn’t to think, your job is to disable the warbird once we find it. Then once we’re done with it, your job is destroy it utterly. One warbird doesn’t stand a chance against our ships, and we’ll decloak and disable them before they even know what hit them.”  
“But we don’t get any renown for it, and what if the High Council finds out we did it?”  
“Just shut up and fly your ship, Jozow.”

As they approached Qualus Two, the Pakleds dropped their jaws in amazement. A smorgasbord of defunct old vessels lay spread out before them like a magnificent banquet. A chorus of oohhs and aaahhs went around the crew as they gazed out in delight. A hail came through from the Enterprise. An image of Captain Picard appeared on their viewscreen even as they strove to ignore it.  
“Pakled vessel,” he said, “Prepare your crew to be beamed aboard a storage freighter, the Morton. There you will remain until your ship has been repaired.”  
“Our ship is the Mondor.”  
“We know that. You will be housed aboard the Morton until all repairs have been completed. You will have no access to Federation personnel or technology, or your own ship while the repairs are being done. After that time, you will be returned to your vessel, and you will depart Qualus Two, not to return. Do you understand?”  
“Is the Morton strong?”  
“No. It is an eighty year old storage freighter with no warp capabilities and no weapons. It does not even have impulse engines. It has been stripped of everything but life support.”  
“It will not go.”  
“No, it will not. You are being towed to it.”  
“Is it strong?”  
“No, it is not. It has no weapons and no shields. There is nothing of value aboard it, only simple living quarters. Prepare to be beamed aboard it. Picard out.”  
The Pakleds looked at each other.  
“They are smart.”  
Then they looked out the window at the Morton.  
“It is not strong.”  
“We are not strong.”  
“We will be strong. When our ship is fixed.”  
“Yes, we will be strong!”  
“We are smart.”

Captain Picard rubbed his temples. That was utterly annoying, he thought.  
“We still need to keep an eye on them,” Riker reminded him, “This old junkyard is Pakled heaven.”  
“Make sure it’s not on their databases, so they can never find it again.”  
“That’s part of the protocol Geordi and Data wrote,” Riker said, “Nor will they have any power to their engines until they’ve been towed far enough away from it so that they can’t possibly find their way back. In the meantime, will you be joining Deanna and me for dinner with Mrs. Troi?”  
“I think I feel ill already.”  
“This is an official state function,” Riker smiled, “Complete with dress uniforms.”  
“Surely there must be something wrong down in Engineering,” Picard mused, “I think it is imperative I check on it in person.”  
“See you at dinner,” Riker laughed, and then made his way back to his quarters, where he found Deanna and Lwaxana waiting for him.  
“There you are,” Lwaxana said, “Are they done with that junkboat yet?”  
“No, there are still some precautionary measures we need to take before we can leave.”  
“All this fuss over some quasi-intelligent scavengers!”  
“They did abduct Mr. LaForge when we first encountered them, so we want to make sure they don’t have any opportunities to do anything like that again, or to steal any weapons.”  
“They’ll spend the rest of their lives trying to get back here,” Lwaxana said.  
“Unfortunately, you’re right, so we’ve developed a way to prevent that, too.”  
“Well, good. So Deanna, did you hear back from T’Shara, yet?”  
“I did.”  
“And how is she?”  
“It seems she has a new girlfriend, one she’s quite happy with.”  
“She didn’t rescue another stranded stripper again, did she?” Lwaxana said.  
“No, Mother. She’s Commander Donatra of the Romulan warbird Valdore.”  
“Well, that’s a step up, anyway. Why doesn’t that silly girl just find herself a good husband? Even you finally managed to do that.”  
“I don’t think she wants a husband, Mother. You know that.”  
“And I don’t want her picking up women in dirty spaceports. She’s lucky she isn’t dead from some interstellar fungus,” Lwaxana said, and then picking up Will Riker’s thoughts, “Or a drug overdose.”  
“Mother, T’Shara and I are both old enough to make our own decisions.”  
“Of course you are, you just need to make better ones!”  
“I think it’s time we went to dinner,” Deanna said, standing up and making sure the message from T’Shara was sealed from Lwaxana or Mr. Homn.  
“Are you wearing that?”  
“This is my official dress uniform, Mother.”  
“Pity, it’s a chance to wear something more alluring. Why does all of Starfleet wear color coordinated pajamas?”  
“Mother, Starfleet went to these new bio-enhanced uniforms for comfort and safety.”  
“They certainly didn’t go for enchantment.”  
“These can’t be beamed off, Mother.”  
“Point taken,” Lwaxana said.

Captain Picard darted into sickbay. “Beverly,” he said, “I need you to be my dinner date at the formal gathering tonight.”  
Dr. Crusher laughed, “You wouldn’t be using me as a shield against Mrs. Troi, would you?”  
“Of course I am, and I would be forever in your debt if you would leave work a little early tonight.”  
“I will need a little time to get ready,” Beverly said.  
“I would have thought our marriage would have stopped her,” he said.  
“Apparently not,” Beverly laughed.  
“Few wives would be laughing about their husbands being chased around by another woman,” he pointed out.  
“They would if they had watched him run away from her in terror for twenty years,” Beverly smiled. “Any sign of Q still being interested in her?”  
“None at all. Apparently his miracles have definite limits.”  
“I’m still grateful to have Data back.”  
“As am I. Well then, let us get ready for dinner tonight, shall we?”

Melodic tones awoke Donatra the next morning, as the computer automatically raised the light level. “Wake up darling,” she said, running her hand up T’Shara’s arm and giving her a kiss. She saw her open her eyes, and said, “Thirty minutes to logic class.”  
“Gets started early, doesn’t he?” T’Shara mumbled.  
“We slept in.”  
“Well, you kept me up half the night.”  
“And I had to remind you to go to sleep.”  
“I was having fun.”  
“I know,” Donatra smiled, pulling her closer, “So was I. But all good things must end, and we need to get up and get dressed.”  
T’Shara kissed her, “It’s so much nicer and warmer here with you in bed. Why is this ship so damn cold?”  
“Maybe Toreth turned the heat down so everyone would keep their clothes on,” Donatra laughed.  
“Or just us,” T’Shara laughed, “But what it really does is make me want to stay here in bed with you, and cuddle up for warmth,” she said, and held Donatra tightly. Then she whispered, “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”  
“You’re worth it. I don’t think the garbage barge was worth my commission, but being with you is wonderful, and I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”  
“Are you ready for something different?”  
“Oh? What are you going to do?”  
“Not like that,” T’Shara laughed, getting an image from Donatra’s mind. “I’m not into tie-up games. I meant adjusting to life off of a warbird. Wearing civilian clothes and going to beautiful places on our own schedule, instead of deep space for battles.”  
“I’m sure I could learn to like it. I’ve already adjusted to wanting to stay in bed with you all day. I doubt it’s that difficult to get even lazier.”  
T’Shara laughed, “Are you calling me lazy?”  
“Perhaps indolent would be more like it, but you do make me happy.”  
“I’m glad of that last part.”  
“But for now, we need to get up. On the count of three, we brave the cold. Ready?”  
“I suppose it must be done.”  
“One, two three!” Donatra jumped up, and there was not a doubt in her mind that Toreth had adjusted the temperature controls in their quarters. She shivered and reached for her clothes, as T’Shara wrapped a blanket around herself and stood up.  
“She really thought of everything, didn’t she,” T’Shara said, as Donatra quickly pulled on her clothes, and handed her the coatdress. “I’m freezing.”  
“Put your dress on as fast as possible, you’re just staying cold longer that way.”  
“There’s no pleasant way to do this.”  
“It’s not meant to be pleasant, it’s a backhand punishment.”  
“It’s working,” T’Shara shivered, as she let the blanket drop and quickly put on the coatdress.  
“Life off a ship is beginning to sound very appealing.”  
“More so than ever,” T’Shara agreed, and replicated two cups of hot tea. She gave one to Donatra, and they cherished them in their hands. T’Shara sighed as the tea warmed her up. “On the bright side,” she smiled, “It all makes a memory, and you’re here with me. It’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with. Vorta Vor is wherever you want it to be.”  
“I like that idea.”  
They sat down together under a blanket for warmth, and waited for the guards to arrive. When Toreth saw them huddling under the blanket in the chilly room, she hid a smile, waiting to see if they complained. Don’t say anything, T’Shara warned Donatra telepathically, if we complain about the cold she’ll turn up the heat, and I’d rather be too cold than too hot.  
What’s her problem, Donatra wondered as they followed the guards to the meeting room.  
A sadistic streak and an opportunity to enjoy it, T’Shara answered.  
Ambassador Spock and the other students were waiting for them when they arrived. They quietly took their seats, prepared for another dull logic lesson. To their surprise, Spock said, “I thought perhaps we could take advantage of an unusual opportunity, Counselor Br’nith, if you are amenable to it.”  
“Oh, what’s that?”  
“I am curious as to what the results of a Betazoid-Vulcan mind meld would be,” Spock said.  
Boredom I can’t possibly avoid, T’Shara thought, that’s what the result will be, but she said, “Most mind melds are for the purpose of extracting information, or exchanging life histories. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that much history.”  
“The purpose of the mind meld will be to replay the events related to the Pakled vessel,” Spock said.  
“That’s fine, then,” she said.  
“Thank you,” he said, “First I will explain to the class what exactly a Vulcan mind meld is, and what the risks are. Melding can be physically debilitating for both parties and involves pressure changes which could potentially aggravate existing conditions. The melding may result in some loss of identity, and can be difficult to break, especially when the subject’s mind is powerful or dynamic. However, aftereffects can be medically treated. Rarely, portions of one melder’s katra could be left behind with the other. This then enables an enhanced form of telepathic contact, sometimes over many light years. Another side-effect is the transfer of emotion.” Spock went on to tell the class about the history of mind melds, and his own experience with the phenomenon.  
This is a horrible idea, Donatra said telepathically to T’Shara. Physically debilitating? Loss of identity? What if part of Spock is left behind in you and we don’t feel right together anymore? Or worse, he gets a good look at us together in bed? No, this is a bad plan.  
But it’s his bad plan, T’Shara told her. Don’t worry, dear, I’ll be fine, and I won’t let him see any nude pictures of you. We’ll focus on the garbage barge.  
I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Donatra thought. She listened to the rest of Spock’s lecture, and her trepidation grew into a feeling of dread. Spock was experienced in mind melding, but he admitted he’d never melded with a Betazoid before, and this one was both powerful and dynamic, to say the least. More like explosive. T’Shara was mentally undressing her during the entire lecture, to music. Spock didn’t have a clue what he was getting into. He would find himself on a runaway horse. Finally, she raised her hand.  
“Yes, Commander Donatra?”  
“Ambassador, I think this is a bad idea. She has a very strong mind. We’re talking to each other right now. I wasn’t empathic or telepathic before I met T’Shara, but I am now. She’s already taught me just in the time we’ve been together. I’m concerned about identity loss and breaking this mind meld once it starts.”  
“Thank you, Commander, your concern is noted,” Spock said, “However, I am still intrigued by the experience, and require accurate information as to the events that led to the finding of the adrift Pakled vessel.”  
“I object on the basis of the emotional bleed through you described. What if your katras become entangled, and she’s forever changed? Cold, logical, and unemotional? Or change in some unforeseen way, with nothing to gain? I don’t think the benefits are worth the risk,” Donatra said, and looked over at T’Shara. Oh, please don’t turn into Spock! If you become cold, distant and arrogant like a Vulcan, you won’t love me anymore. That would ruin everything, and I definitely want to have sex more than once every seven years!  
“We will be gaining knowledge,” Spock said, “And your objections have been noted.”  
“Don’t do it, I think this is a bad idea,” Donatra said. She looked over at T’Shara. I love you the way you are, and this could destroy everything we have together!  
T’Shara laughed, I won’t turn into Spock, Donatra dear! Your worry is understandable and touching, and I will definitely still love you. “I’ll be fine,” she said aloud, and squeezed Donatra’s hand, “Don’t worry about me.”  
“If you are ready, Counselor,” Spock said, and T’Shara smiled. She stood up and tried to disengage her hand from Donatra’s.  
Don’t do it, Donatra told her, tugging at her hand. Please don’t do it.  
“I’ll be fine, dear! I promise you, I will not turn into Spock! Stop worrying, you’re reminding me of Deanna’s nagging.” She gently pulled away from Donatra and walked to the front of the room. Two chairs had been placed facing each other. “Can I at least have a cushion?” T’Shara asked. “These chairs are uncomfortable.”  
“Of course,” Spock said, sitting down in one hard chair, while a student folded up his jacket to provide a cushion for the other. T’Shara sat down on it. “Are you ready?” he asked.  
Anything’s better than another boring lecture on pure logic, she thought, and said, “I’m ready.” She felt Donatra’s worry intensify.  
Oh, no… You’re perfect the way you are! What if you become logical and I don’t like it? You’re risking yourself, us, for nothing! I don’t want you to change!  
Relax, T’Shara told her, I won’t change, and it’s so sweet you think I’m perfect the way I am.  
“My mind, to your mind,” Spock said, and put his hand up to T’Shara’s forehead. The students all watched in fascination, except Donatra, who sat on the edge of her seat in dread and anticipation. T’Shara closed her eyes and let Spock connect to her telepathically. The connection was effortless, something Spock did not expect, but could easily understand. T’Shara led his mind straight to the other night on the bridge, when Toreth had been in her quarters after becoming annoyed and leaving. T’Shara and Donatra were sitting together, smiling and holding hands while the crew ran basic sensor sweeps of the area. Spock could see it easily, as though he were physically present. Everything around him felt solid, as though it were real.  
We were all having a good time without Toreth scowling at us, T’Shara told him, until that shipload of idiots hailed us.  
“Please replay the incident exactly as it occurred,” Spock said aloud, and the students watched in fascination.  
Of course, T’Shara agreed, and turned Spock’s attention to the forward viewscreen. The Pakled vessel appeared, and the conversation began. He observed their discourse, and the intimate telepathic connection that existed between the two women. He also noted how easily T’Shara affected the crew. Her humorous mood empathically influenced them into a jocularity he had seldom observed among sober Romulan soldiers. They laughed along with T’Shara’s suggestions, no one objecting to her unwise suggestion that they set the Pakled vessel adrift on a new trajectory. It was his opinion that T’Shara was in fact influencing not only Commander Donatra but the entire bridge crew.  
“I will take full responsibility for my actions,” T’Shara said. The students stared, and Donatra felt a sensation of panic.  
No! No, she pushed T’Shara, don’t say that! Don’t tell him any more than he already knows!  
It’s all right, T’Shara told her, I already told them that.  
“Did you empathically control the rest of the bridge crew?” Spock asked her.  
Don’t say yes to that! Donatra interrupted. You’ll be in even more trouble! End this!  
“No, I did not,” T’Shara said.  
Spock looked around him on the bridge, in the mind melded memory. “I see clear evidence that you did.” Strange, he thought, there is a third presence here, very protective of T’Shara, guarding the truth and influencing her responses. These memories are being altered. He correctly identified the third presence as Commander Donatra, who was still telepathically linked to T’Shara during the mind meld. We are no longer seeing events as they actually unfolded, he thought. T’Shara and Donatra were still standing together on the bridge, but they were nervous and telepathically tugging at each other, not laughing as they had been.  
Don’t tell him any more, Donatra warned her, this wasn’t part of the original confession. I know you want to protect me but that’s going beyond. That’s a separate charge!  
It is not my intent to convict, Spock told them, but rather to discover the truth.  
T’Shara attempted to smooth things over. The truth is simple, she soothed them. We were having too much fun and acted irresponsibly. There is no more to it than that.  
“Your attempts at emotional manipulation will be ineffective,” Spock said, “What are you attempting to cover up, he asked, and why are you doing it?  
Nothing! They both shoved the thought at him, so strongly he knew there was something there. They locked arms and tried to throw him out of the mind meld, but he maintained his focus.  
The students watched as the Betazoid woman’s face, formerly composed and almost smiling, became strained. Few noticed Donatra close her eyes.  
“What are you attempting to hide?” he asked.  
Us, T’Shara answered. Everything we think about. Affection, attraction, love, and sex. They gazed into each other’s eyes. Donatra touched T’Shara’s soft coatdress, and remembered all the previous times she had gently caressed her in that dress. They flashed back to the first night they met, and how much Donatra had wanted to touch her.  
“Irrelevant,” Spock said, looking around the crowded bar. The Romulan tavern felt as real and tangible as the bridge of the Valdore had been. “Return to the event in question.”  
We’re here again, Donatra and T’Shara stared at each other, just like they had when they had first met. We can do this. We can go back to any time, any moment, replay it all again. Donatra reached out across the bar, running her hands all over T’Shara’s irresistibly soft coatdress. I wanted so much to do this. I was so nervous, if only I had known what fate had planned for me! I wanted you from the moment I saw you.  
And you had me, T’Shara smiled, just the way you wanted. Kiss me.  
They embraced, feeling like they were melting together. Spock tried to break the mind meld, and discovered that he was still stuck in the Romulan bar. Soldiers and local girls shared drinks and mixed together. Music was playing, someone brushed past him, and several men began a game of darts. He could see T’Shara and Donatra, far across the room, locked together in a passionate embrace.  
Kiss me all over, Donatra answered, oblivious to everyone else in the bar. They didn’t really exist, anyway. I want you right where I found you.  
Her uniform slid away, forgotten like everything else, as T’Shara kissed and caressed her. She felt T’Shara’s lips on her neck and then her breasts. Then time overlapped, and she could feel all the kisses at once and exclaimed in delight. We can do this too! More than one memory, feelings overlapped to create a simultaneous sensation. She quivered at the surge of emotion, and let it overflow back into her lover, and it echoed back onto her, like sounds bouncing off a mountainside.  
I want to make you happy.  
Oh, you do! You’ve made me very happy, indeed. Don’t stop, layer on another memory!  
Spock looked around the bar. They were somewhere in the crowd, he could feel them, but he couldn’t find them. Somehow he was blocked out, and he realized he was lost in someone else’s memory, with no way out. The people around him seemed real, and he was left feeling very lost and alone. Almost afraid. He was lost. It was an unaccustomed sensation, and he didn’t like it at all. Nor could he shake it. Logic told him that it was unreal, but the feelings were overwhelming. The emotional bleedthrough of a mind meld, he told himself. This loneliness is an abandoned emotion, left behind by the Betazoid, combined with the fear of not being in control of the mind meld. Still, the aching in his heart became unbearable. Suddenly, a life of logic seemed a waste, empty and cold. There was an immense pressure of loneliness standing on his chest like a giant’s boot.  
A million miles away, students in a logic class recognized a problem. “He stopped breathing!” a young man suddenly said. The others noticed it was true, and another student called for medical attention. The medics beamed in immediately, and on inspecting Ambassador Spock, diagnosed a heart attack. They easily separated the unconscious bodies from the mind-meld. The hand that had been on T’Shara’s forehead flopped down and they put his body on the floor. She remained sitting in her chair with her eyes closed, silent and still.  
“Beam us to the infirmary!” the doctor ordered, and they vanished.  
“What about them?” a student pointed at T’Shara and Donatra, slumped in their chairs.  
“Notify Admiral Toreth,” another suggested.  
Their physical bodies motionless, far away in a dark bar, the lovers still embraced, sharing a memory of spending the night together.  
On the bridge, Admiral Toreth was not happy with the news she received. “What happened?” she demanded.  
“Ambassador Spock attempted a mind meld with the Betazoid, and something went wrong,” the ensign explained, “The ambassador suffered a heart attack. The counselor and Commander Donatra are still unconscious.”  
“This is a disaster,” Toreth said, “Is Ambassador Spock still alive?”  
“He’s in stable condition, but still unconscious as well. Our doctors have little experience with the aftereffects of a mind meld and don’t know how to proceed.”  
“Where are the other two?”  
“Still unconscious in the meeting room. We don’t know what to do about them, either.”  
“I might,” Toreth said, and added, “Subcommander, you have the bridge.” She walked down to the meeting room, where Spock’s students were still standing around, mystified as to what had gone wrong. They’d all heard the pre-meld lecture about the dangers, but still didn’t know what to do about it. They were discussing the situation while several others were searching the ship’s databanks for any information that might prove useful.  
“What happened here?” Admiral Toreth demanded.  
“Ambassador Spock was curious as to the effects of a Vulcan-Betazoid mind meld. He wanted to access her memories of their encounter with the alien vessel. During the mind meld, it sounded like they were arguing, and then Commander Donatra went unconscious, as well. The mind meld continued for another few minutes, and then we noticed that Ambassador Spock had stopped breathing, so we called medical. We still have no idea what happened, or how to wake them up.”  
“I think I do,” Toreth said, and gave T’Shara a hard slap across the face.  
Far away, during their embrace, T’Shara received a slap in the face. A cold shock reverberated through her, and interrupted their lovemaking.  
Not so rough, darling.  
I’m not hurting you, Donatra wondered, feeling the disturbance. I know better than to do that. She avoided anything that might trigger unpleasant memories and start a replay of old traumas. Those thoughts ruined everything.  
“Wake up!” Toreth said, and slapped T’Shara again twice.  
That hurt, T’Shara thought, and Donatra paused, wondering where the sudden pain was coming from. What she was doing was meant to give pleasure.  
Toreth slapped her again, “I said wake up!”  
T’Shara stirred in discomfort, and Donatra paused. It’s not me doing that, there’s someone else here.  
Toreth, T’Shara realized, and startled awake just as Toreth delivered another sharp slap across her face. She felt satisfaction emanating from the Admiral, and heard her thought, I’ve waited a long time to do that. “Stop hitting me,” T’Shara said, as Toreth raised her hand for another slap.  
The music and the magic faded as Donatra felt her lover slip away out of her arms. She felt a stinging on her cheeks, the aftereffects of being slapped. But no feeling of rejection. She hadn’t been abandoned, her lover had been stolen. What’s happening, she wondered. Alone in a fading memory, Donatra sought to follow her, and awoke, slumped over in a chair. They were back in the meeting room on the Valdore. As she focused on her immediate environment, she saw T’Shara sitting in a chair across the room, a guard holding her by the shoulders as Toreth slapped her repeatedly. Recovering herself, Donatra jumped up, and tried to stop Toreth from delivering any more blows to T’Shara, who was now awake as well.  
“What have you done?” Toreth demanded.  
“I don’t know what happened,” Donatra admitted, “But you can stop slapping her!”  
Toreth gave Donatra a stern look, and then lowered her arm. “I’m sure you do know what happened,” Toreth demanded of T’Shara. “What have you done to Ambassador Spock?”  
“We lost him in a bar on Romulus,” T’Shara said.  
“What?”  
“The mind meld was too tight, like dancing in shoes that are five sizes too small, so I kicked them off, and then we were free, and it was like dancing away in bare feet. Then it was just Donatra and me, back when we first met.”  
“That told me nothing! What did you do?”  
“I’m not sure, I’ve never been stuck in a slow-moving mud trap like a Vulcan mind meld before.”  
“Explain yourself in plain language, with no word-pictures! Start from the beginning, and proceed with a sequential description of events. Then when you come to the end, stop,” Toreth commanded her.  
“Ambassador Spock was curious about a Vulcan-Betazoid mind meld, and wanted to obtain further information about the garbage barge,” T’Shara said.  
“An ensign already told me the background,” Toreth said, “What I want to know is what you did.”  
“During the mind meld, we revisited the memory of the encounter, and he started to ask me questions. He didn’t realize that Donatra and I are enmeshed in constant telepathic contact, so she was pulled in with me. The three way dynamic created an unstable environment, and I couldn’t concentrate on his dull questioning, so I turned to her. We fell back into a memory of when we first met, and created an alternate memory,” she smiled and looked over at Donatra. “We became locked in the meld together, and forgot all about him.”  
Donatra smiled back at her. Now there are two alternate timelines we can revisit from the same memory of our first meeting. I didn’t know we could do that.  
I didn’t either, T’Shara answered. We’ve discovered something new that we can do.  
“So you ditched him in some psychic bar and ran off together,” Toreth summarized. “Your dereliction of duty knows no bounds. Are you aware that Ambassador Spock suffered a heart attack as a result of your foolishness?”  
T’Shara and Donatra looked at her in surprise. “No,” T’Shara said, “We had no knowledge of what he was doing or where he was. I thought we left him on the bridge of the Valdore. I had no idea he tried to follow us.”  
“And I have no idea how to explain to Starfleet what happened to their ambassador,” Toreth said. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Because of your recklessness and stupidity, Ambassador Spock is currently in the infirmary, unconscious and in danger of dying!”  
“I warned him that this was a bad idea,” Donatra said. “When he told the class that a mind meld can be difficult to break, I felt an imminent sense of disaster.”  
“Did you know this might happen?”  
“I didn’t know what would happen, that’s why I was worried. When Ambassador Spock described the possible side effects of a mind meld included parts of one being left in the other, I was against this experiment. I didn’t want any part of him left in her, and didn’t want her to change. He was also unprepared for the intensity of the experience. Spock has never been wrapped up in a love affair with an empath, and underestimated the power of our connection, and how overwhelming it is. He never expected me to be pulled in to the mind meld, and I didn’t expect it either. It just happened.”  
“It just happened,” Toreth seethed, “Well, that’s just perfect!” She turned to T’Shara. “Did you do this on purpose? Tell me the truth before Starfleet wrings it out of you!”  
“I didn’t intend to harm anyone. I expected the mind meld with Spock to be boring, like the lectures on logic, and it was. I also didn’t expect Donatra to be pulled in with us, and when he started interrogating us, emotions took over. The instinct to avoid pain kicked in, and we turned to each other. That’s when we left him.”  
“So you fled interrogation in fear. What were you running from?”  
“Uncomfortable feelings.”  
“What uncomfortable feelings? Be more specific.”  
“I panicked,” Donatra said, “I didn’t want him seeing any images of us naked.”  
“Of all the silly, irrelevant things!” Toreth said, “You weren’t supposed to be thinking about that, anyway! Can’t you two control yourselves at all?”  
“In Donatra’s defense,” T’Shara said, “She’s never had a telepathic connection of any other kind. This was also her first mind meld, and she wasn’t prepared for it. She couldn’t shield her mind from those memories and emotions. When she felt stressed, she turned to what she was comfortable with. And it’s what I’m primarily interested in.”  
“I’m well aware of your prurient interests, counselor,” Toreth said. “Once again, you would have done well to have concentrated on your work. I was against the two of you being placed together, and have unfortunately been proved correct. Are you aware of how much damage your silly antics have caused?”  
“With all due respect, Admiral Toreth, people only get hurt when they interfere.”  
“I disagree. I would say the damage extends in a substantial radius around you. And once again, I am forced into the position of damage control. What do you suppose we tell Starfleet about why their ambassador had a heart attack and might die?”  
“I don’t know. I don’t know how or why that happened. He was on his own.”  
“He probably had a heart attack from the stress of dealing with you. It’s a feeling I know well! Now write a report to transmit to Starfleet, and in the meantime, I will ask them if they have any experienced mind melders who could meet with us and perhaps undo the damage you have done. Do I need to remind you of what could happen if he dies?”  
The silence was answer enough. The Romulans killed Ambassador Spock on a diplomatic mission to Earth.  
“Now go write that report,” Toreth told them, “And make sure you take full responsibility for your misdeeds. Now!” She watched as the guards led them away back to their quarters. In the meantime, it was her unpleasant duty to notify the Imperial Star Command and Starfleet of what had happened.

Spock wandered through the crowded room. The spot where T’Shara and Donatra had been joined together in a passionate embrace was empty. They were gone, leaving him locked out of the mind meld, but unable to extricate himself from it. The room he was in seemed completely real. The sights, sounds, and even smells of the establishment and its patrons were physically tangible. This is unexpected, he thought. This type of event had never happened to him before, nor had he ever heard of it occurring. Exactly what had occurred remained to be discovered. Clearly he had ventured into unknown territory. Thinking logically was increasingly difficult, with the crushing loneliness pressing down upon him. It was an orphaned emotion the Betazoid woman had abandoned, and he was stuck struggling with it. The emotional state is irrelevant, he told himself. However irrelevant it might be, it was persistent, strong, and unpleasant. He proceeded to do what he would have done while undercover on Romulus, and wandered over to the bar and ordered a drink. Then he sat there alone and pondered his situation. Had he known the Betazoid woman was in the middle of a pon farr, he would have proceeded differently. Certainly he would not have risked having her lover in the same room with them, if he would have proceeded at all. Nor had he anticipated a three way mind meld. Such a thing was unheard of in the Vulcan tradition, but clearly the Betazoid woman was capable of multiple simultaneous telepathic connections, and hadn’t broken her empathic romantic thoughts prior to the mind meld, thus drawing her lover in. Her mind had been highly emotional and erratic, and under the pressure of questioning, she froze him out and took refuge in the arms of her mate. He knew that he was trapped in one of their memories, possibly an artificially created reality. The problem now was how to get back out. 

Captain Picard froze in disbelief. “What?”  
“I’m very sorry to tell you this, Captain,” Commander Toreth said, “But Ambassador Spock has suffered a heart attack.”  
“Is he still alive?”  
“He is currently in our infirmary, alive but still unconscious.”  
“When did this happen?”  
Admiral Toreth paused, and then said, “During a mind meld with T’Shara Br’nith.”  
“What?”  
“The event proceeded without my knowledge or prior approval. Ambassador Spock’s students all say that he was curious about the effects of a Vulcan-Betazoid mind meld.”  
“His choice of which Betazoid leaves a lot to be desired,” Captain Picard said. “Do you know why he chose to proceed?”  
“The students told me that he used the technique to obtain more accurate information about the incident with the alien vessel. Something went wrong, and we don’t know what. We have no other Vulcans aboard, and limited knowledge of mind melding.”  
“Something tells me T’Shara Br’nith does know,” Picard said. “Have you questioned her?”  
“I have, and a full report will be submitted to you as soon as it is completed.”  
“I look forward to reading it. We do have several Vulcans on board the Enterprise, as well as the Betazoid ambassador Lwaxana Troi. I believe we might be of assistance. Also, Ambassador Spock is a personal friend of mine, and I would like to rendezvous with the Valdore as soon as possible.”  
“Understandable. I will send you our coordinates along with the report.”  
“Agreed.”  
“Toreth out.”  
Captain Picard sat in his ready room and worried about this latest development. Was Admiral Toreth telling the truth? What had really occurred?”  
The doorbell rang. “Permission to enter.”  
Will Riker came in and noticed the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”  
“Ambassador Spock has suffered a heart attack aboard a Romulan vessel while in the middle of a mind meld with Deanna’s cousin, T’Shara. Apparently, something went wrong. They said he’s still alive but unconscious. We need to meet up with the Valdore as quickly as possible.”  
“Why was he mind melding with her?”  
“The official reason was to obtain information about their encounter with the Pakleds. What other reasons he may have had I don’t know, other than perhaps curiosity.”  
“That’s a dangerous way to satisfy curiosity,” Riker said. “Did anyone tell him how emotional Betazoids are?”  
“I’m sure he knew, but perhaps failed to appreciate the extent of it. We will know more when they send us the written report. In the meantime, perhaps Deanna and Mrs. Troi could shed some light on what might have happened.”  
“Should we leave Qualus Two now?”  
“Do you think the protocols will be sufficient to control the Pakleds?”  
“As long as no one beams aboard the Morton they won’t be able to take any prisoners and demand anything.”  
“Very well. Make sure the service personnel here at Qualus Two appreciates the potential treachery of the Pakleds, and then set an intercept course for the Valdore as soon as we receive their coordinates.”  
“Yes, sir.”

Doygos knew approximately where the Romulan warbird full of dignitaries had to be, and surveilled the space, waiting for any indication of their exact location. When he intercepted their transmission to the Enterprise, he had the exact coordinates he needed. Unfortunately, the Enterprise was on its way to meet them. The three Klingon ships he brought would be more than enough to subdue and then destroy one Romulan vessel, but if he had to fight the Enterprise things wouldn’t be so easy. Which meant that his raid on the Romulans had to be soon. “Set a course for the Valdore at the transmitted coordinates,” he told Jozow and D’Darkird.

You’re frightened.  
We might have killed Spock. If we’re not executed, everyone will hate us, everywhere we go, Donatra cried. Everyone throughout the Federation will hate us, and members of the Reunification faction on Romulus will hunt us down.  
T’Shara held her while she cried, feeling her anguish and sharing it. But we didn’t kill Spock, dear.  
It doesn’t matter that we didn’t intend to, all anyone will remember is that we did! I wanted a happy life, not being stalked to death.  
He’s not going to die, T’Shara assured her. He’s just locked in his own mind meld with our memories. Eventually he will recover. He just needs to find his way back first.  
Can he do that?  
I’m surprised he hasn’t done it yet. I don’t know what the holdup is.  
Can we go back and get him?  
We can try. We’d have to go back to everywhere we were during the mind meld and find him. But don’t expect him to be grateful. He’s going to tell everyone I was telepathically controlling the bridge crew. I’d prefer to be off the ship before that happens.  
But you’re not controlling everyone, are you?  
Would we be locked in our quarters if I was?  
Good point.  
I’m not consciously controlling anyone, but my emotions can be contagious, and that’s what happened on the bridge. Without Toreth there to squelch the fun, I accidentally infected everyone else with my sense of humor, and they went with it because it was amusing.  
Then we have to go back and get him, Donatra decided. How do we do that?  
I’m not sure exactly, I’ve never lost a boring Vulcan during a mind meld. This is new to me. I’m used to being in control, not having someone else both slow me down and then order me around.  
T’Shara, that’s a poor excuse. We have to undo what’s happened. Think of a way.  
Very well. Your morals and sense of duty are admirable.  
Then you can appreciate why I’m not going to let you distract me until we get this done. He’s lost in mental space. Can we get there from here, or do we need to make physical contact like during the mind meld?  
We should try to do it from here first, without telling anyone else. Only if we can’t will we try to gain physical access.  
Good, Donatra thought, I don’t want to be known as the disgraced prisoner who screwed up a mind meld and killed Ambassador Spock!  
I don’t either, T’Shara agreed. Toreth and Picard are already upset with me, if Spock dies I won’t have to worry about being hunted by rogue Reunification fanatics, they’ll tie me to a chair and Picard will lecture me on my personality flaws while Toreth slaps me to death.  
Then you’re motivated, Donatra agreed. Now how do we do this?  
Let’s try to recreate the mind meld and return to where we left him in that bar back on Romulus.  
She sat down on the floor and Donatra sat down beside her. They joined hands and closed their eyes.  
I remember the music that was playing, T’Shara thought, and reimagined the sights, sounds, and feelings of the night they met. Lights, the men in the bar, she retraced her steps, and Donatra easily joined her, remembering. Their eyes met, and Donatra felt the full impact of how much her life had changed at that moment. Her destiny at altered at that single juncture in time, and she felt time swirling around her. Come to me.  
Donatra stood up and excused herself from the table with the other Valdore crewmen, joining T’Shara. She sat down beside her, and forgot everything else. The men and women mixing together noisily in the ambient aloneness that only solitude in a crowd can create, the bartender who served them, and the taste of the ale she drank faded in comparison to the miracle of their meeting and her own fate. The chance of a lifetime. You’re my path to the stars and more, she thought as she reached out and touched her. I can see it all now, the universe wanted us to be together. It’s not only your physical beauty, it’s everything else, too, everything you do.  
T’Shara blushed. I’m not that important in the grand scheme of things, and you shouldn’t stroke my ego like that, it’s not good for me. I need to practice humility for my own benefit and that of everyone around me. But as I said before, you are a gift from the gods, one to be enjoyed and unwrapped slowly.  
I’ve already been unwrapped, Donatra smiled, and embraced her. There’s no need to be modest now. We’re all alone in our own little world, and we can be completely truthful with each other. And I will confess that at first I wanted you because I thought you were beautiful, and that you could help me rise to power. Now I want you because you make me happy, and I can feel how very lonely I was before I met you. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Never leave.  
T’Shara kissed her. You have my love and my service. I won’t ever leave you unless you send me away. I know that adrift, lost and lonely feeling all too well. Thank you for loving me.  
They embraced in a perfect mind meld of contentment and peace together, loneliness shut out like a stone skin that nothing penetrated. Waves of being lost and alone crashed around them, and they were oblivious to their effect, untouched by the anomie of others. 

Admiral Toreth was wondering if the promotion was worth the aggravation. She had submitted the requested reports to Star Command, and to Captain Picard. It was her hope that someone on board the Enterprise could rectify the situation before Star Command contacted her again. Unfortunately, the response was all too swift. She wasn’t surprised by anything they had to say, except Praetor Tal’aura’s request to speak to Donatra privately. “I’ve had them sequestered in their quarters with no access to communications,” Toreth explained. “They don’t need to contact anyone without my permission.”  
“And Commander Donatra hasn’t killed Br’nith or herself because of the dishonor?” Tal’aura asked.  
“No, quite the contrary. She was upset at first, but now seems as oblivious to the consequences of her actions as Counselor Br’nith. Donatra is lost to us, for all practical purposes. I recommend we dump her off along with the counselor on Starfleet and retreat from the situation before it becomes even worse.”  
“Your recommendation is noted, Admiral. I wish to speak with Donatra privately.”  
“Why?”  
“That is none of your concern. Attend to your duties and bring Donatra here to speak to me immediately.”  
Toreth had disliked Tal’aura for years, and considered her alliance with Shinzon traitorous. She didn’t like her any more now, and wondered what further treasonous motives she had devised. Toreth already had her security guards keeping a careful watch on the Praetor’s delegation of senators. She would have enjoyed confining them all to quarters, and she would like even more to ignore Praetor Tal’aura. Yet, she had no authority to disobey a direct order, so she complied.  
“Toreth to Donatra.”

Perfect peace and love was interrupted by a rude buzzing, and Donatra woke up on the floor in her quarters, T’Shara in her arms. She reached over to answer the call, as T’Shara opened her eyes and sat up beside her.  
“Yes?”  
It was Admiral Toreth, who said, “Your presence is required in my office. I will send the guards to fetch you.”  
“I wonder what she wants now,” Donatra said.  
“All I can sense from her is her normal state of disgruntlement,” T’Shara said and stood up.  
Donatra laughed, “What a way to go through life!”  
“It’s a grim existence,” T’Shara agreed, “But there are plenty of Romulans who are even more miserable, they either just hide it better or don’t have a ship full of other people to poke with a stick.”  
“So what do they think about?”  
“Most people go through life inside a private hurricane of their own thoughts and feelings, very little getting through from the outside. Wind speed picks up throughout life, and by midlife they’re irredeemably lonely and isolated, but almost none of them will risk the discomfort of change. So they stay alone, and that sensation solidifies around them into opacity, and it’s at that point that most of them are so lonely they could die, and make up their minds to do so.”  
Making Tal’aura wait gave Toreth some small satisfaction, and she accompanied the guards herself. “Praetor Tal’aura wishes to speak to you,” she said to Donatra. She noticed the expression of panic pass over the young woman’s face, and decided to find out why. “Come along,” she said to T’Shara. When they reached her office, Toreth dismissed the guards, and stood outside the closed door with T’Shara. “Eavesdrop,” she ordered her.  
T’Shara gave her a funny look.  
“Quickly. Don’t miss anything.”  
T’Shara closed her eyes and mentally joined Donatra in the meeting room while Toreth stood there patiently waiting. They’d done this many times before. It was one of the few instances when Toreth had found the Betazoid handy. T’Shara would attune to the conversation, and repeat everything said back to Toreth in a hushed whisper.  
Donatra sat down in the chair reluctantly, and addressed Praetor Tal’aura.  
“Why does that woman still draw breath?” Tal’aura demanded. “Why didn’t you do what I told you to do?”  
“I couldn’t.”  
“Why not? You had the chance to rid us of a demoness and you didn’t do it. Why?”  
“Because I chose love over power.”  
“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. She’s gotten to you. I suppose she told you she loves you, among other lies. You’re no longer seeing things as they truly are, only as she allows you to see them, through the veil I warned you about. Do you honestly think she loves you in return?”  
“Yes.”  
“You’re a fool, and wisdom will be hard earned, if you survive the learning process. She’ll rip up your soul and feed it back to you in little pieces, thrown at her pleasure. Discommendation will feel like a precursor to what awaits you. The only chance you have to avoid dying alone in shame and misery is to dispose of her now. Regain your honor and you may be reinstated. Do not fail me again. Do you understand?”  
“I understand what you want me to do.”  
“Then do it. Tell no one what we spoke of. Now go.”  
The screen went dark, and nothing remained but the lighted image of a warbird remained. She wasn’t surprised when the door opened, and Toreth and T’Shara entered. She had sensed T’Shara’s presence during the conversation, she was only surprised that T’Shara had repeated everything accurately to Admiral Toreth.  
T’Shara closed the door and said, “This is what we always do.”  
“You told her everything?”  
“Of course. It’s the only reason she puts up with me.” Then she took Donatra’s hand. “You’re not alone. We’ve known for years what Tal’aura’s aspirations of power were, and this is no surprise.”  
“Then you knew about her plots with Shinzon?”  
“We knew,” T’Shara said. “What we couldn’t do was stop him.”  
Toreth and T’Shara took their seats.  
“As far as I’m concerned,” Toreth said, “Your true dishonor was cooperating with him and the Remans. How you could have supported him and risked the welfare of all Romulus at the hands of the Remans is beyond comprehension. You redeemed yourself by aiding the Enterprise against him. Tal’aura is and will always remain a traitor, as will Suran, for putting their own ambitions before the welfare of the Empire. T’Shara has no loyalty to the Empire that I am aware of, and runs back and forth between Romulus and the Federation, dodging whoever is after her this time. I will not get in the way of a lover’s quarrel, if it goes that way, but I will give you this piece of advice. Traitors always turn against each other. My allegiance is to Romulus, and the Romulan people. Leaders come and go, along with their governments. There is no shortage of plots to ascend to power.”  
“What do I do?”  
“I suppose you could kill her, regain your honor and your military position, and return to Romulus. How much faith do you have in Tal’aura to keep her word?”  
“Thanks, Toreth,” T’Shara said, looking askance at her.  
“Unless you do that, I suggest you not return to Romulus,” Toreth said.  
“I’m not going to kill T’Shara,” Donatra said.  
“Then you don’t have the soul of a traitor,” Toreth said. “But surely you have already laid some other plans? I know she has,” she said, “Whatever emergency escapes might be necessary.”  
“Yes,” Donatra admitted.  
“Then do one of those,” Toreth said, “Whatever causes the least damage to my crew and ship.”  
“It was my ship,” Donatra said.  
“You may have the tactical experience to succeed in battle, but in my opinion you do not have the maturity or wisdom to make good decisions. My purpose here is to save the crew from disaster and return the ship in one piece. In the meantime, your attention should be focused on undoing whatever you have done to Ambassador Spock.”  
“I was against the mind meld to begin with,” Donatra said. “I implored him not to do it, and told him that T’Shara and I were in constant telepathic contact. I felt it was unwise to proceed and he chose to do so anyway.”  
“With or without your approval, and certainly without mine, it occurred. The task now is to undo it.”  
“I haven’t been able to access his thoughts from our quarters,” T’Shara explained. “I don’t have any previous experience with Vulcan mind melds. It seems to be a more physical experience than I’m used to. It’s possible I could return to the mind meld, but I would have to go to him and make contact.”  
“What assurance can you give me that you won’t make matters worse?”  
“I don’t know,” T’Shara said. “There’s no risk to me in trying, but I don’t know that much about Vulcan minds. Logic is a bizarre reductionist philosophy that seems to strip all the beauty and joy out every experience. It’s hard for me to follow.”  
“Then perhaps you should go think about it. What you have done, there must be a way to undo. You might start by thinking about someone besides yourself and go from there.”  
T’Shara and Donatra looked at each other. We forgot all about Spock and focused on each other, Donatra thought.  
It’s difficult to concentrate on a boring Vulcan when you’re around, T’Shara thought.  
You’re too attractive, Donatra smiled, I forgot all about him the moment I saw you.  
“Use spoken words,” Toreth interrupted.  
“I’m a distraction,” Donatra said. “She can’t concentrate on finding Ambassador Spock if I’m around. T’Shara should go to the infirmary and try to mind meld with him without me around.”  
“Submit a proposal I can approve, and fix what you did! If there are no further questions, you are both dismissed.”  
Back in their quarters, Donatra said, “I still can’t believe you tell her everything!”  
“Like I said, that’s why she tolerates having me around. In her mind, that’s what I’m for. She keeps me out of trouble more often than not, and besides, I don’t tell her the naughty parts. Just the information.”  
“I feel a little left out.”  
“No, you’re just young. We’re not hiding anything from you. We were eavesdropping long before you stepped onto a warbird. It’s always good to be humble. A lot was accomplished before any of us were born.”  
How is it Toreth is completely unaffected by you?  
She’s exactly what she appears to be, all business. In her mind, there will be plenty of time for emotions and relationships after she retires from active duty, if she ever retires, T’Shara added with a laugh. And she truly believes in putting the best interests of the Empire first, as she sees it. Nor have I ever really put forth any effort in seducing her, mentally, emotionally, or physically. I only maintain what little trust she has in me by not doing so. Attention to duty is the way to her heart.  
Yet she seems bitter about your former girlfriends.  
Indeed. That’s part of my dereliction of duty, distracting others from their tasks.  
There’s more to it than that.  
She sees me as having already robbed the Empire of an excellent engineer and a fine tactical officer, and in the process of stealing another.  
And what happened to them?  
They both left me for a man. I can’t compete with the comforting allure of a husband and children, hearth and home, normalcy. That’s how most of my girlfriends leave me. I’ve gotten used to it.  
Most? What happened to the others?  
My last Romulan girlfriend was killed by marauding Klingons, and two Starfleet girlfriends died pointlessly on away missions. One was captured by the Borg, and of all the ways to lose someone, that was the most horrible. Knowing that she’s still out there somewhere, living a cursed half-life, part of that hideous hive, having lost herself. I don’t know what’s worse, thinking that she doesn’t have memory of me, or that she does, some part of her still empathically aware, and can’t do anything about it.  
That’s awful. It also raises the possibility that the Borg have acquired telepathy.  
I don’t know. I never saw her again, and I’m not sure I could stand it if I did.  
Was she Betazoid?  
No, she was human.  
Don’t they acquire all the knowledge and memories of the individuals they assimilate? If she was in contact with you, won’t they gain the awareness of telepathy and come looking for you? Or if not you personally, than other Betazoids?  
That may well be a possibility, and an unpleasant one I would prefer not to think about. Let’s concentrate on the task at hand, and come up with a written proposal Toreth will approve for breaking Spock out of his own unhappy, solitary mind meld.  
I have an idea for that. I’m a constant distraction for you, so you should attempt to contact him without me around. Then return to the bar, and instead of looking over at me, look the other way, and search the crowd for him.  
That will be a dull, lonely task.  
That’s it! You’ll be looking for the loneliest guy in the bar! The feelings we left behind are the one’s he’s stuck with and can’t handle!  
I think you’re right. Let’s write all that down into the written proposal, and give it to Toreth. I have a feeling she’ll approve it.

“Captain, the Quinault has arrived,” Worf said.  
“Excellent,” Captain Picard said. “Brief them on the status of the Pakled vessel, and prepare to depart for the Valdore.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
Captain Picard left the ready room, only to find Lwaxana Troi waiting for him on the bridge. “Mrs. Troi,” he began, “The bridge is a place for working, not relaxing. I would appreciate it if you would stay out of the way of the crew, and also refrain from sitting in my chair.”  
“But Jean-Luc, this is such a congenial atmosphere, and I do enjoy the view.”  
“An equally enjoyable view is available in Ten-Forward, along with a variety of beverages for you to enjoy. Please vacate my seat.”  
“Mother, please respect the captain’s wishes,” Deanna said.  
“Very well,” Lwaxana said getting up out of the captain’s chair. “So, Jean-Luc, will you be joining me for lunch?”  
“Mrs. Troi, I really have a lot of work to do.”  
“Poor man, so burdened by the weight of command and duty. So much on your mind!”  
“Mother, please!” Deanna said as Captain Picard took his seat. “The captain has work to do.”  
“And I’m going to help him with it,” Lwaxana said.  
“Really, Mrs. Troi, I can get along fine,” Captain Picard said. Then he turned to the ensign, “Set an intercept course for the Valdore, warp 8. They should meet us halfway.”  
“Yes, sir,” the ensign said.  
“Oh, you’re still so worried about your friend,” Lwaxana said, “But you shouldn’t be. He’ll be fine. In the end, at least.”  
“With all due respect, Mrs. Troi, I do not share your confidence, and I cannot tell you how displeased I am with this latest disaster caused by your niece.”  
“It’s not her fault,” Lwaxana said. “Your Vulcan friend was unbelievably arrogant to think that he could telepathically interrogate her…”  
“Mother, you’re making it worse,” Deanna interrupted. “Perhaps you and I should go have a private talk.”  
“Of course, Little One.”  
Captain Picard sighed with relief as Deanna led her mother off the bridge and into the turbo lift.  
“Mother, calling Ambassador Spock arrogant isn’t going to make Captain Picard feel any better about the situation or T’Shara.”  
All Vulcans are arrogant, Little One, Lwaxana thought. You should know that by now. They see all Betazoids as overly emotional to the point of being insane. If he had bothered to appreciate her position, he wouldn’t be in the mess he’s in now.  
“But pointing that out to Captain Picard isn’t going to help.”  
Use telepathy, dear, we’re alone.  
Mother, I understand your desire to help T’Shara, but arguing with Captain Picard is only making it worse.  
Nonsense, dear. If he focuses his anger and frustration on me, he’ll blame her behavior on me for raising her. At least she knows how to have fun. How you ever turned out so deadly dull is still a mystery.  
Deanna sighed, I hope you’re right about that first part.  
Of course I’m right. He’s not going to blame his friend, he’s going to roll that problem straight at someone else.  
Mother, what else are you planning?  
Oh, have a little faith in me, dear. 

Doygos listened to the helmsmen of the Enterprise and the Valdore coordinate their anticipated intercept point. “They’re headed straight for us,” he said, “But we need to be quick. We hit the Valdore in six hours, well before any chance of the Enterprise being around. Straight for them at full speed.”  
As the helmsmen entered their new speed and intercept point, Jozow asked, “Tell me again how this starts a glorious war.”  
“No, you muttonhead! I’ve already explained it to you twice. If you can’t think, that’s your curse. Just shut up and fly your ship!”

Toreth looked up and took the tablet out of Donatra’s hand. “We have it,” Donatra smiled.  
“Is this your proposal for reviving Ambassador Spock?”  
“Yes. I will remain in my quarters while T’Shara goes to the infirmary and initiates a mind meld with Ambassador Spock via a physical connection, of which I will not be a part. Without me around to distract her, returning to the point where we lost him should be easy.”  
Toreth looked at T’Shara, who was fidgeting around. “Do you agree with this plan?”  
“Yes, it should be simple and straightforward. We’ve been practicing mind melding together, and I already have a connection with the ambassador.”  
“Good. Why are you twitching around like that?”  
“I feel stalked.”  
“Stalked by what?”  
“I’m not sure yet. I feel like something is hunting me, or us.”  
“Is there any danger to the ship?”  
“It’s not close yet, but gaining quickly.”  
“Is there any chance the Enterprise is planning an attack?”  
“I don’t think so. It’s not them I feel, but someone else, someone much closer who thinks like a wild animal.”  
“We can’t raise our shields unless we drop out of warp,” Toreth said. “We will maintain our present course for the time being. You will notify me immediately if this presence becomes an immediate threat. In the meantime, I will review your report and you will do whatever it is you do to prepare for a mind meld. I will notify you when I am finished. Return to your quarters and remain there. Dismissed.”  
The guards escorted them back to their quarters and left them there. T’Shara was still feeling hunted, and Donatra picked up on her discomfort.  
“What is it?” she asked.  
A sensation of dread, like we’re being hunted and surrounded by a pack of wolves. We’re going to be attacked.  
Do you know how soon? By who?  
Not yet, I just feel nervous and agitated. I don’t know who or where they are, only that they’re stalking us, full of greed and hate.


End file.
